Ratatouille
by TheNewIdea
Summary: Set seven months after the events of the movie. The story of what happens after everything is over and Remy finally has everything that he ever wanted. Or does he? Remy is looking for something, the one thing that we all strive for but can never seem to find until we look hard enough and in all the wrong places. You would think in the city of love it would be easy...not so much.
1. Where All Stories Start

Chapter One

Where All Stories Start

The rain comes almost every day now, even if it's not cloudy. I can't help but feel as if all of this is my fault. Looking out of my bay window, the guilt and the shame of the past few months starts to set in. I had worked all my life to get one thing and suddenly like the burst of a balloon, it was gone, shredded into a million tiny pieces that I would never be able to pick up.

My name is Remy. The lights of Paris are beautiful, even in the rain. As the storm continues outside, a bigger one is gnawing inside of me. You know what? I'll just start where all stories start, at the beginning, maybe then this will make more sense.

It was last Christmas when I heard the news. Linguini and Colette were finally getting married. To tell you the truth I was indifferent, for Linguini and Colette had been together for the better of the year and for me at least, it was common law marriage at best. Still, Linguini felt that it was proper to announce his news to everyone and that's not just the kitchen staff of the restaurant, I mean Linguini announced his marriage to every person he saw on the street. It was pathetic.

Still I managed to look my best, slick my fur back, dress up in a tuxedo, the whole deal. Amazingly, Linguini made me the best man, I guess he had no other human friends who could do it, which would be sad, or I really was his closest friend no matter what. I like to say it was a little bit of both. As soon as the "May you kiss the bride" line passed I was relieved, for Linguini finally accomplished something that actually had merit. Not to say that he's completely useless, well okay, that's exactly what I'm saying, but to be fair, Linguini can't do anything, let alone cook a decent meal for four people to sit and enjoy.

My dad, Django, walked over to me after the main event, "Congratulations son" he said as he embraced me to the best of his ability, "you should be proud. The first rat to be best man, I'd never thought I'd live to see the day!" I smiled, partially confused as to why he was congratulating me when I all did was stand there and not move for two hours, but I decided to play along and with it. "Thanks Dad, it means a lot." Dad shook this off, "No it doesn't. One of these days you're goanna have to stop listening to your senile old man and just live your life." I wanted to say that I was already doing that and have been for the better part of seven months, for he was a strongly against my dream of being a chef ever since I first sparked an interest back at the country farm. But thanks to Brad Bird, you already know that story.

It was true, Dad was getting older and showing extreme signs of Alzheimer's disease, at times he didn't even recognize me. He took his medication and went to the doctor regularly but I think he knew that he wasn't going much longer. Sitting down, Dad looked sadder than usual, he had his usual bouts of depression now and again, so seeing him down in the dumps was normal, but this time it was worse, as if it wasn't just a normal every day thing, but on a real issue. "I just want to live to see my son find a wife" he said as he turned to me, "but it's not my call. If your time comes after I'm long gone, whoever you're with, you have my blessing."

It was good to know that Dad cared enough to give me that. The chances that he won't live to see that day were getting high which each passing minute, even if he didn't have Alzheimer's the chances would still be high, considering our family's history with high blood pressure, cancer and liver disease.

"I promise Dad" I answered, "I'll find someone before you...you know." Dad shook this off, "Don't base your happiness on my health Remy" he replied, "I want to see you married, but not as much as I want you to be happy. If you have to wait for that, by all means wait." He coughed violently and began to wheeze, finally sitting down at the nearest table. Once he was breathing normally, I began to relax because for the past six months I was ironically unable to comply with Dad's wishes because I was too busy taking care of him. It was two edged sword caught between my Dad and my own personal happiness and I was lunging it in my direction.

Linguini stood up and addressed the guests, the few who came, "First of all" he began, "I'd like to thank everyone for coming. Next to meeting Colette this has been the best day of my life." We all raised our wine glasses and followed suit with the toast. Linguini stepped up to the front of the room and continued with his speech, it was unusual for the groom to speak at his own wedding, but it was tradition in Gusteau family for generations and Linguini was all about tradition. "Let me start by saying that none of this would've been possible without the gifts and talents of" I'm skipping this part, I'm pretty sure you know where this is going. I slowly made my way to the podium. It was then that I realized one very important detail about me, I'm a rat.

I rolled my eyes and turned towards Linguini, as a joke I began making up random sign language that meant absolutely nothing, to the humans it was cute, to the rats present, it was hilarious. When I finally did stop I turned towards the audience and spoke, "And that's what I have to say about Linguini" I turned towards the man of the hour and continued, "but in all seriousness Linguini, you're one of the best guys I ever knew, the only human I've met who hasn't tried to kill me and when the day finally does come for me to die, I'm going to look back on everything that we've experienced and I'm going to say 'I lived a good life.' I turned towards the audience and specifically the rats, "It's not because I'm the best chef in Paris or because my family is amazing and has supported me every step of the way, although that is a big part of that." I made my way back to Linguini, "I will have lived a good life because I met someone like you Linguini; you showed me that humans aren't that bad."

To the humans present, I had spoken complete gibberish, but to the rats, I had just sung pure poetry. I stepped off Linguini's hand and returned to my seat. Dad and I exchanged glances and for the first time in a long while, Dad smiled at me, "You meant every word of that didn't you?" he asked. I nodded in silent agreement, to which Dad's smile only increased as he took another sip of wine down his throat.

I don't know which was worse, the wedding, the reception or the after party that followed. By the end of that night, I had made two different speeches in honor of the bride and groom, popped seven champagne corks and made twenty four different varieties of cheese, each of them taking two hours to make. Why twenty four? Because Linguini thought it would be a good idea for everyone to send home four pounds of the stuff for no reason at all then just to get rid of food. So it's safe to say that by the end of that night, I was exhausted and ready not to move until forever.

But duty calls. The next morning I was up and out of bed by five, showered and shaved by six and down at the restaurant just in time for opening at seven. As I was preparing for the usual morning rush alone for what would've been the fifth time that week, Emile came into the kitchen. "Remy" he said as he ran towards me, very out of breath. "What is it Emile?" I asked half annoyed that he was bothering me at one of the busiest times of the day, something that I specifically told him not to do. "This better be important?" I continued, "Well what classifies as important?" Emile asked. I slapped my face with my paw in complete disbelief, "Is someone dead, sick or in mortal danger?" I yelled, getting more annoyed as I noticed costumers beginning to walk through the front door.

Emile thought about his answer for a long time, as if the issue was either too important that he had to remember every detail or exactly the opposite, finally he spoke. "Yes" he answered. I stared at him and pressed harder, "Which one- Dead, sick or mortal danger?" Emile hesitated to answer, "Dead, well, dying, I'd say more like sick." I immediately feared the worst and put up a sign on the door saying that I was unable, turning back towards Emile I asked the million dollar question. "Who is it?"

Dad lay on his death bed in the small apartment across the restaurant. He looked worse than before, his fur was almost completely white, his teeth were yellow to the core, but the thing that really got me were his eyes. His eyes were the saddest eyes I have ever seen, it was as if life had finally caught up to him, as if the weight of the world, which he had tried so hard to carry for other's sake had finally and violently broke him down to nothing. It was painful.

He turned to me, his face full of confusion, "Who are you?" he asked as he stretched out his hand towards me and spoke again, this time louder "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Tears formed in my eyes, the disease had taken over- he had forgotten who I was entirely."I'm your son" I answered, trying and obviously failing to hold back my silent barrage of tears as they streamed down my face and landed softly on the floor, "Remy." Dad's face then got angry, for a moment I thought he recognized me, but then he spoke again, "Son? I don't have a son!" Emile cast his down and softly began to whisper, "I'm Emile, your son?" Dad turned towards Emile, "I don't have a son! I don't have a son!" Dad's breathing became slower, his voice got softer as a result. He kept repeating this same phrase over and over, like a never ending mantra.

Dad clutched his chest, his heart giving out from the strain of keeping him alive, at the same time his brain, which was once full of knowledge and wisdom of a thousand mice and men put together, shutdown. The only thing I heard was Dad's final words, his mantra for what ironically he considered to possess for most of his life, "I don't have a son...I don't have a son." Emile buried his face in his hands and cried for what seemed like forever. I could only stare in shock and disbelief. My father, my Dad, the person who had raised me and made me who I am today, was dead. "I promised you I would find someone before you left" I whispered as I walked towards the door, "would you settle for afterwards Dad?" Saying nothing more, I slowly made my way to back to the restaurant. The rest of that day was spent almost entirely by myself in the kitchen. I didn't go out and deliver the food like I usually did; I let the orderlies take care of that.

Soon I found myself making dishes that no one had ordered, but I found that I really didn't care. I was lost in myself. By the end of the day, the entire counter was full of dishes that were ready to eat, all of our ingredients were exhausted for the entire month and my hands were bleeding from the amount of work I had done, but I didn't care, for I had begun to grieve.


	2. Voice

Chapter Two

Voice

Linguini came in the restaurant at the end of the morning rush. Luckily all that needed to be done was get all the food that I prepared that morning out of the kitchen so in a way Linguini's arrival was a good thing. When he saw the kitchen however, he just about lost it. "What is this?" he cried as he saw the large mountain of food that had begun to pile up on the counter. I was standing on the big pot, the same one that he discovered me in Gusteau's. Linguini rolled his eyes and walked over to me, I never took my eye off the pot, but I could tell by his footsteps that he was not happy with me. "What is the meaning of this Lil Chef?" he demanded.

I grabbed a pinch of Rosemary and threw it in the pot; I honestly had no idea what I was doing. I thought I was making Ratatouille like I always did, so did Linguini actually. At best, I figured if any of the food was horrible I could at least play the sympathy card. I laughed to myself as I realized that impossibility. How was I supposed to explain to Linguini my state of mind when I couldn't speak? Linguini was a terrible translator when it came to sign language and not very good at charades, so both of those options were out. There was only one thing I could do. I stopped cooking, sat down on the rim of the pot and cried.

Linguini stared at me for several minutes, not understanding on what was happening. Fortunately Colette came in the kitchen to save the day, well actually she came in to work, but that's what she ended up doing. Colette smiled and kissed Linguini on the cheek, when she saw me, sitting there on that pot, now completely motionless she spoke, "Linguini, what's wrong with him huh?" she asked, her voice full of concern and worry, "I don't know" Linguini answered, "but look at what he's done." Linguini gestured to the counter and Colette saw all the food, Linguini walked over to the pantry and found it empty, "The pantry's completely empty!" he exclaimed.

Colette stared at me, I didn't look at her. I was lost in the recesses of my own mind. "Did you cook all of this?" I nodded slightly, only halfway listening, "In one night?" Colette continued. I nodded again, this time slower and barely noticeable. I then did something that I never did before, I spoke, "Can you guys run the restaurant? I need to be alone for a few hours." Colette blinked, her face was surprised, her words didn't match her face, as if everything she did from thereafter was confused," Of course Monsieur-" she hesitated for she didn't know my name, neither of them did. "It's Remy" I replied, giving her and Linguini, who was now paying attention the satisfaction.

I stepped down from the pot, took off my toque blanche, hung it on its rack and walked out of the kitchen without further explanation.

Colette turned to Linguini, in complete amazement, "Did you just see and hear what I just saw and heard?" Linguini slowly nodded, also in complete disbelief, "I don't believe it. The bastard can talk." Colette gave him the evil eye, "Linguini! How can you be so heartless? Something is obviously wrong with him!" Linguini rolled his eyes, "Yeah, he took our entire inventory." Colette slapped Linguini in the face, the sound of her hand making contact with Linguini's cheek echoed throughout the kitchen, "He made all of those dishes in one night. That's more than just simply taking the inventory. It must serve some purpose." Linguini lifted his arms up, not wanting to believe this insanity, "The only purpose it serves is that he wasted all of our food." he cried in desperation, "What are we going to tell the costumers. They'll be getting antsy in a few minutes and demand that we serve them something."

I was watching them from the window; I couldn't believe that they were being so stupid. Apparently they couldn't do anything by themselves, well Linguini couldn't do anything by himself; Colette was perfectly capable. I walked back into the kitchen, causing the two of them to turn my way, both of their faces bearing confused and surprised looks. I motioned towards the food, and then towards the door leading to the restaurant. "I already made the food. All you have to do is serve it." I said as I started to head towards to the door, before I could leave, Colette spoke, "What's wrong Remy?" she asked, at the same time making a mental note of my name. I sighed, dropped my shoulders and answered, "Dad died yesterday."

I didn't have to give any more explanations after that, for Colette and Linguini both understood what it was like. Linguini, although he didn't know his real father, was very close to his stepdad, which was close enough. Colette though had personal experience, having lost both of her parents at a young age, she was raised by her aunt and uncle, who got her started in culinary school to deal with the pain.

Colette kneeled down and lightly brushed my cheek, "Take all the time you need" she whispered as she drew me in for a quick hug, it was warm and for a moment I didn't want to leave, but I knew that it was the best thing, "Thanks Colette...don't work too much today. No matter how many costumers show up, the restaurant closes at 3:30 today." Linguini huffed, "But we never close that early. That's not even enough time for the dinner rush." I stared at Colette and then back at Linguini, "It's a wedding present" I replied, "leave the restaurant as soon as you close it and don't come back until I tell you. Okay?" Colette smiled and embraced me once more, "Obrigado senhor, muito obrigado!"

I finally got out of the restaurant just as the lunch crowd came in. I had no doubts that Colette would see that things got done, my chief concern was Linguini. But I decided that there was no point in thinking about it. After all, how much damage could he cause in just three and a half hours?


	3. Observations on Love

**WARNING: Contains strong language and sexual themes. Shouldn't be too big a deal but I figured I might as well let you know. Not as major as I make it seem but I'm extremely paranoid so just go with it.**

Chapter Three

Observations on Love

Walking in one of the parks I thought it would be good idea to clear my head. The birds were singing, the flowers were almost in bloom and everyone around seemed relatively happy. On the park bench there were two lovers going at it as if this was the last time they were going to see each other for of their lives and they had to make this one count. In the grass there were numerous children running after a squirrel, I felt immensely bad for the squirrel for all she was trying to do was gather some food for her family that was nesting in the tree the children were surrounding. In the lake to my right there was a lone swan, he seemed perfectly content with being alone, then I noticed the others on the other side of the lake and realized that he wasn't alone, like me he was just looking for a quiet place to just _be_.

I remembered the last conversation that Dad and I had, how all he ever wanted was to see his son live a happy and fulfilled life. So far, I'd say that my life was pretty good, but I couldn't help but feel that something was missing. I just didn't know what it was or if it even meant anything. All I knew was that it was there.

"Let's see besides being able to cook" I thought to myself, "What are your redeeming qualities?" It took me a total of fifteen minutes to come up with a list that it five items long. This that sad or what? To tell you the truth I don't get out, if it's not working at the restaurant, it's taking care of Emile. That is my life, cooking and Emile. For once, I wish that I wasn't a good cook, maybe then Dad's plans for me would've came true, maybe he would've seen his son get married. When it comes to Emile, well there's that old saying that you can choose your friends but you can't choose your family. That's a lie. You can choose your family, because your family is the people who care about you, the people you're around with the most. Sure you're not related, not really, but those things don't matter when family is concerned. That's why instead of having seven friends, I have seven additional brothers and sisters.

"Well, look at you" a voice said from behind, "Remy the famous chef, sitting alone on a park bench." it was Jacques, a field mouse and one of my regular costumers at the bistro. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, "Shouldn't you be back at the restaurant?" I nodded, "I'm taking the day off." I answered, "About time" Jacques exclaimed as he climbed up on the bench, "you work too much as it is." Jacques was my sole confident, since I couldn't trust Emile to keep anything a secret. I laughed, "Hey at least I'm doing what I love. Most people don't get to do that nowadays." Jacques nodded, "Most people get out and socialize. Most people have a life outside of their job...Most people take a little time for themselves." Jacques continued this rant for a total of ten minutes; I guess he was trying to figure out how to say the same thing in as many ways as possible.

Jacques patted my back, "You know what you need?" he asked, "What do I need Jacques?" I asked. "A girlfriend" Jacques continued, "let me set you up. I know a few girls who would be perfect for you." I laughed half heartedly, "A few? Do you know what the meaning of the word_ girlfriend_ means Jacques? It means one, a single person that I am compatible with to where I can have a decent and long lasting relationship." Jacques sighed, "You just described the definition of marriage Remy. Let's take this one step at a time."

I stepped off the bench, "Alright Jacques you win. What's your plan?" Jacques smiled and looked around aimlessly and stared in the direction of the two lovers, at this point, the woman's top had come off and the groping had commenced. "By the end of the night" he said, "that's going to be you" he continued pointing to man. I laughed, "That's pretty ambitious of you isn't it?" I stated, "I mean really come on, first date and you get to home plate? That's impossible." Jacques patted my back again, more heartedly and acting like he was drunk which he most likely was, "Not if you do it right. You just go back to the restaurant and do your thing. I'll take care of everything else." I slowly back away, breaking myself from Jacques arm, "Not a good night I'm afraid. I'm planning a romantic dinner." Jacques looked at me as if I were stupid, "Prefect! We'll have you laid by midnight!" I shook my head, "It's for Linguini, idiot...and besides if I want to find someone, I want it to be for love." Jacques shook his head in response, "Look at what they're doing" he pointed back towards the lovers on the bench, the guy was now half dressed, thankfully it was the top half, but they were going harder and harder, each second got more forceful and more exciting.

"That" I answered, "is not love. At least not the kind I'm looking for." Jacques' stare of ' You are stupid' reappeared on his face, "Uh dude, you know how the reproductive system works right?" I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, "Yes Jacques, I'm perfectly aware of that, but to me love is more than just sex." Jacques sighed and put his paw to his face, "I believe the word you're searching for is fuck" he motioned towards the lovers again, "see that? Fucking, not sex. Fucking!" I huffed at his stupid observation and walked down the path headed towards my small apartment across the street from the restaurant, Jacques however, followed me.

I walked up to the door of the building, Jacques hadn't said a word since we left the park, I assumed it was because he was gathering his thoughts. When I reached the door, the conversation continued. "Okay then mister smart guy-what is sex?" I asked, to which Jacques gave me the following answer, "Sex is for two people who are rediscovering themselves for the first time when they haven't had any relations in several years... or for first timers." I shook my head, "So me" I answered sharply. Jacques blinked, "You mean you never-?" I laughed at Jacques' face, it was full of surprise and complete stupefaction, "I'm a virgin Jacques and I'm proud of it."

Jacques sat down in the nearest chair, in shock by my answer. While he was silent, I headed to the bathroom to wash my hands and prepare for the evening. When I came back, Jacques was still on the chair, a large smile on his face. I raised my eyebrows at him, having a good idea of what he was planning. "All the more reason to get you laid, man" Jacques replied. I shook my head and pointed towards the door, "Get out Jacques" Jacques was motionless, I moved closer and raised my voice, "Get out of here!" I yelled. This was enough to get Jacques to run out of the room and shut the door without saying anything else. I laughed as I looked up towards the ceiling, "Thanks Dad" I said, "looks like all those years of yelling at me finally paid off."

After that, I proceeded to slick my fur back, don my tuxedo once more and go out into the night. I figured that if I was going to play host to a romantic dinner, I might as well look the part. So with my head held strangely and almost unnecessarily high, I walked down to the restaurant.


	4. Ratatouille

Chapter Four

Ratatouille

Have you ever once loved a particular food to the point where you had it constantly and that was all you ate? Have you ever been asked to make one particular thing over and over again, everyone expecting it to be the same every single time? If you have then, you know pretty much get how I feel every single night-sick.

I had the orderlies' string up garland around the pillars in the main hall, flowers on every table, accompanied by two candles. Yves Montand playing on the radio to lighten the mood and a live orchestra completed the passage. As you can imagine, I spared no expense for Linguini and Colette's honeymoon/romantic dinner. I had done all this work, spent all that money and cleaned myself up...you know, I don't want to ruin this experience for you so I'll let the story tell itself.

Linguini and Colette walked in, both of them dressed in their finest clothes; Linguini had on a blue tuxedo that was obviously worth a considerable amount of money for it was covered in sequences. Colette was dressed in a red dress with long silt that suggestively showed her back. They looked as if they had just gone dancing or were about to, in short, completely ridiculous.

Walking up the table, I presented them their menus, "Hello" I began, trying to be as formal as possible, "my name is Remy and I will your waiter as well as your chef. Please take all the time you need." Linguini grabbed both of the menus and set them down on the cart to be taken away by the orderly. He turned to me and spoke, "We'll have Bâtard-Montrachet 1937 to start with" I bowed respectfully, "An excellent choice sir, and for dinner?" Linguini gave a knowing smile, "Two Ratatouille if you please." I cringed, my eye began to twitch noticeably, I smiled and tried my best not to sound annoyed, "Of course" I said gritting my teeth in extreme pain, "I'll have it right out for you."

As soon as I entered the kitchen and made sure I was alone, I lost it. I tore out my fur and began banging my head on the pots, eventually I ended up beating myself with a large wooden spoon. "What the hell are they thinking?" I yelled to no one in particular, at the same extremely thankful that I was alone and no one was able to hear me, "Are they insane? Ratatouille, Ratatouille, Ratatouille! I hate that dish! It's evil. It is the bane of my existence and the only thing I'll ever be remembered for! I have officially become the Mark Hamil of chefs, this is ridiculous." I began pacing around the room, passing by several salt shakers and the pantry, which had been restocked during the day, the large amount of food from earlier had disappeared, which meant that Colette had succeeded.

I tapped my small claws on the counter, thinking of what I should do. "Well I can't leave them there can I?" I looked up and spoke, hoping to find an answer, "Hey God, what's the deal here, why are these people crazy!" I got no reply so I continued my rant. "I took care of everything. I got the scenery, the music; I'm even cooking the goddamn food. I give them a million and one options to choose from and what do they pick? Ratatouille, the peasant dish- the useless boring, unappealing peasant dish that has become the stain of my career!" I sat down on the counter and silently began to cry to myself, "This is my life" I whispered, "I will never be remembered for anything else." I wanted to quit right then, to be done with cooking, to be done with Paris, to be done with France. I wanted to get away, far away, to a place where I am nothing but a nobody, where I can start over. But I knew that I couldn't just leave, I had an obligation to my workers, to Linguini, to Emile, to stay here, in Paris.

Standing up I managed to compose myself and walk out of the room carrying the white wine that Linguini ordered. Colette stared at me, then at Linguini and then back towards me, "Where's the food?" she asked. I smiled, "I'm terribly sorry but we are fresh out of Ratatouille. It's the busy season you see" I had to restrain myself from laughing, but unfortunately Linguini caught on to this. "Where's our food?" he demanded, I turned towards him, the uneasiness in his voice making me uncomfortable. "Like I said" I began, trying to diffuse the delicate situation, "we're fresh out." Linguini stood up from his chair leaned in, "No we're not" he stated almost menacingly, "now get in that kitchen and make the damn food!"

I stared at Linguini and noticed that I still had the wine in my hand; I uncorked it and threw the entire bottle on Linguini, ruining a $5,000 suit. "I'm so terribly sorry" I replied sarcastically, "but we are fresh out of Ratatouille. If you like I can point you to another restaurant that can better accommodate you or would you rather order something else?" Colette laughed at her husband who gave her the evil eye, "Whatever happened to being the wind between my wings? The stout protector of my children, the apple of my eye-" Colette cut Linguini's sarcasm with more laughter, "You have to admit it was pretty funny" she cried. I nodded in agreement, "Just be glad it was white wine" I answered, "if it was red it would've stained your clothes." Linguini grumbled under his breath, "It will still stain you idiot, its wine!"

Linguini sat back in his chair and wiped himself off. He turned to me and nodded, "We'll have the soup" I nodded in disagreement, "Try again" I answered, Linguini rolled his eyes, "I'm on a budget you know." I laughed, "And yet you managed to afford a $5,000 suit?" I pointed to my own tuxedo, "I got out of the garbage. You don't know what budget is. "Colette turned my way, her voice full of concern, "You're on a budget? You're the finest chef in France, surely you can-" I held out my paw stopping her, "Anton Ego does not make me the finest chef in France. That's one review; I'm still living off of coupon rations and garbage." Linguini laughed at this, "You own a five star restaurant!" I nodded, "Yes" I answered, "but I can't eat any our stock, if I do this place will close within a month!" Linguini huffed, "Yeah and I'm the pathetic one."

At this I smashed the empty wine bottle on the table and threw it on the floor. I stepped off the cart I was standing on and headed towards the exit door. Turning around I spoke, "Sorry Linguini...Colette... but you can make your own damn meal." I then walked out the door, leaving them both with confused and hurt looks as they watched me stand in the rain, waiting to cross the street to head, alone, into my apartment.


	5. Rain

Chapter Five

Rain

I stood out in the rain, waiting for the walkway sign to change. The wind began to pick up, causing my bowtie, which was already loosely tied to begin with, to blow away with the wind. But I didn't care. For the first time I noticed that I was alone, I noticed that Emile was nowhere to be found and I noticed that Dad was truly gone. I don't know why it hit me so late, the grief; I guess I still had some of it was bottled inside, deep inside and only now was it beginning to surface.

"What have I done?" I asked, staring up at the sky hoping for yet another answer, "What do I have to do? Someone please answer me!" As I crumbled to the ground I decided to let the world do what it wanted with me. I didn't care anymore, I was tried, tried of Linguini and Colette, but most of all I was tired of being alone. For no reason at all, my mood shifted, I was no longer focused on Dad but rather myself, it made me feel worse.

I thought about the music I had heard the first day I opened the restaurant, Le Festin. I remembered how happy and upbeat it was, a representation of new beginnings and fulfilled dreams. Some future I had, I was lying in the street covered in mud and shaking from the cold. Even though my apartment was only a short walk away, I didn't feel like getting up. As far as I was concerned, I wouldn't have cared if I died of pneumonia right there. But then there would be no story to tell.

"What are you doing?" a voice said through the rain, I didn't bother seeing who it was or answering back, my only response was the slight movement of my tail and my continued shaking. "Come on" it said, "let's get you out of here." I sighed, "No thanks" I answered, "I like the rain." the mysterious voice emitted a laugh, it was female. "How can you like the rain?" she asked sarcastically, "it's so depressing." I slowly sat up; keeping my gaze focused on the street ahead, "Not always" I replied, "rain can be calming, peaceful. Especially when you're trying to sleep and the building has a tin roof." The figure moved forward, her shadow cast it's against the restaurant's glowing window. She was about my size, a little shorter actually, obviously a rat by the size of the tail and larger build. It couldn't be just a mere coincidence, this was fate talking here, and I decided to listen.

Turning around and standing up, the first thing I saw were two eyes, saying that they were simply a color would be doing them injustice. Honestly I can't remember what color they were to begin and I doubt that it would've mattered for they would've striking either way. Following the eyes, I saw her face, the nose was small in comparison to mine, narrower too, but that's beside the point. Her whiskers were significantly longer though, which told me absolutely nothing, the ears were orange on the interior and yellow, like the rest of her, on the exterior. I didn't have to see anything else to tell that she was the most beautiful thing that I have seen in my entire life. I knew right then that if it came down it, between cooking and her; I would choose her hand downs every time.

I wasn't exactly sure what to do, for I had never been in a romantic situation before, so I did the gentlemanly thing and bowed my head slightly and gave her my name, rather nervously mind you, "My name's Remy." She smiled and said nothing. I assumed she was playing hard to get, and personally if she was, I was going to play along. "What are you doing out here?" she asked, looked me over and seeing that I was covered in mud and dirt. "I was headed home" I answered, "to my apartment across the street." She nodded sarcastically, "Uh huh" she said, taking a slight pause, "then what were you doing crumbled up in a ball bumbling like a baby?" I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment, "Things haven't been good lately" I admitted, "So?" she answered, "that's no reason to cry. The sun has to come out some time." I smiled at her reasoning, "I never did get your name" I stated, somewhat hinting at what I desperately wanted to know. She smiled in return and nodded, "That's because I never gave it" she answered.

"So you're going to be like that huh?" I returned, adding a little bit of suave to test her apparent interest, which I learned was absolutely none. "Yep" she said sharply, "that's how it's going to be." I smiled and bowed once more, signaling my leave, "And they said that staying out in the rain would catch my death." I exclaimed as I walked across the sidewalk, she moved forward, making her way across the street, obviously following me, "Who's they?" she asked. I laughed, "Everyone who ever lived" I replied, "guess they were wrong." She continued moving towards me, I had made my way towards the door. "Why is that?" she asked, her voice showing signs of arousal and sudden interest, I caught on to this and decided to play it safe for now. "Because" I answered, "I just found the rest of my life standing out in the rain." That was my pickup line. Would you believe that it worked? If you did I wish you the best of luck of with it, because that was complete failure.

Instead, she slowly made her way down the stairs towards the street, I could tell that she still had interest in me, for she kept her gaze locked and her smile never seemed to dim. But I had forever killed whatever could've been that night. Wither it would've turned into Jacques promise or not, I will never know. She sighed and handed me a note before leaving, it was in chicken scratch and I could barely make it as it was, but the rain made the note illegible, before I could ask for any kind of explanation though she had disappeared into the night.

"Good job Remy" I said to myself, "real smooth." I knew that I would never see her again, for this city was too big, the sewers too vast and the rivers too deep for me to search. I wasn't exactly sure if what I said about finding my life in the rain was true or not, at the time it was just a phrase, something to say as a mere test. It was the next morning that I realized that I meant every single word, for that next morning, I felt an emptiness like nothing I had ever felt before, an emptiness that could only be filled by her, and her alone.

So this story begins...


	6. Sewer Rats

Chapter Six

Sewer Rats

I didn't sleep much that night; I was tossing and turning about the mysterious girl I had met without a name. For practical purposes, I had decided to simply call her Camille, if anything just to give me a little peace of mind.

As I got ready for the day, shower, shave, breakfast, I noticed a few things about myself. The first thing was that for a rat I was extremely tall, my nose was round and squishy, my right ear seemed to tilt to the left and I had this awkward toothy grin. I mean I'm a rat, I guess I'm supposed to have these things, I assumed I've always been this way, but that was the first time I really noticed it-to be honest I thought I was the ugliest thing on the face of the Earth.

Emile came in my apartment, unannounced and very hurried. It seemed that he was always going a million miles a minute, never in one place and always wanting me to tag along for everything. "Remy" he said excitingly, "I've got big news!" I was in the middle shaving the right side of my face, the part I considered to be the favored side, "What is it Emile?" I asked, "I'm kinda busy here." Emile patiently waited for me to finish before continuing, "I finally found it!" he exclaimed victoriously, with a paw to the air. I raised my eyebrows in confusion for I had no idea what he was talking about, "What are talking about Emile, what have you found?" Emile laughed as he took my arm drawing me in closer, he then put his paws, which had a considerable amount of dirt on them on my shoulder and laughed so more. "I-I-I finally found it!" he said again, "the Rat City."

Okay, let's get a few things straight here. The Rat City doesn't exist, nothing more than an urban legend. Basically, it's the stereotypical underground city in the middle of the sewers for rats. Nothing more than an urban legend, and Emile, naive and childish Emile, actually believes that such a place exists.

I rolled my eyes at the mentioning of the imagined place, for Emile had talked about the Rat City as if he had been studying it his entire life. "Is that all you talk about? Seriously, that's all I hear from you, the Rat City, I've found the Rat City." Emile cast his eyes down, "But I really did" he said. I sighed, I was being harsh and I knew it, "Look Emile" I began, "the Rat City doesn't exist. It's an urban legend nothing more." Emile shook his head in disagreement, "Come on Remy!" he said, almost whining, "It does exist I'm telling you. I've seen it. It's an Underground Paris. Let me prove it to you."

I shook him off, Emile was being ridiculous, besides I had to work the late shift that night at the restaurant and I needed all the rest I could get. "Emile for the last time" I declared, "the Rat City is an urban legend. Now I'm very tried and I have a late shift, so please leave." Just as I was about to sit down on the couch for some much needed relaxation, Emile pulled me to my feet and dragged me out the door. "Hey!" I yelled, "What the hell are you doing? Where are you taking me?" Emile laughed and shook his head in response, "I'm taking you to the Rat City" he said finally as he hauled me on his back and climbed down the manhole into the sewers.

The sewers are among the most disgusting places that I've ever been to. If the smell alone isn't enough, the sights will make anyone swear off food for the rest of their lives. Several floating logs of human feces and random food could be seen in the water downstream. On the walkways, there were numerous small huts of rat communities made of newspapers and old cardboard. If this was the state of the Rat City, I didn't want to see it. I preferred the above ground Paris, for one thing it was cleaner, among many other reasons that I won't get into right now.

Emile carried me into the sewer and continued walking down, "Where exactly are we going?" I asked from behind his shoulder, Emile only smiled, laughed and kept moving forward. "Hello?" I persisted, "I'm perfectly capable of walking you know." Emile sighed, "No can do little brother. You might run off." I rolled my eyes in annoyance, "Why would I do that? You already dragged me all the way down here. Might as well see what's so interesting." My attempts at getting Emile to put m down failed, and he continued walking.

Suddenly we stopped. Emile looked around nervously, "Quiet, we're not alone" he said. "I didn't say anything" I replied, but Emile shushed me, "Shut up Remy!" he whispered, "something's watching us." I looked around into the darkness and saw nothing; I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone see anything that was out stalking us in the sewer. "Who's there?" Emile asked nervousness and anxiety showing in his voice. "No one you should be worried about" a voice answered, causing Emile and me to jump out of our skins. Finally, Emile set me down, "Do you see what I see?" Emile said leaning in towards my ear, "No" I answered, "there's nothing." Emile nodded slowly, "That's what I mean" he whispered nervously.

Emile looked left and right and saw another corridor, "This way" he exclaimed, "we're almost there." I stopped him, "Are you serious right now? You're honestly going to go through with this! Between the Rat City, the mysterious stalker and walking in shit, I was better off above ground." Emile hung his head, "Please Remy. It's not that far." I sighed, I had come this far, I might as well see this through.

The new corridor was strangely brighter than the one we came out of, walking down I had a feeling that the voice and whoever it belonged to was following us. I kept looking back to be sure, but I was met with empty space and the darkness of the first corridor. "Let's turn back" I said nervously, "Yeah" Emile replied sarcastically, "turn back towards the mysterious voice so we can get our throats cut out. Good idea Remy, you're always full of good ideas." Emile then, continuing his sarcasm turned around and started walking back towards the corridor. It was then that the mysterious voice came again," I would keep walking if I were you, Emile." I turned around; my blood ran cold Emile stared in the direction of the figure, making out a singular shadow in the darkness. "Who are you?" Emile asked, his ears cocked to one side and his hands clasped together in obvious fear.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing a large black rat, almost double my height and easily triple my weight. Emile eased up for some reason at the sight of the rat and embraced him as if he were a long lost friend he hadn't seen in ages, "Yves!" he cried as he broke away from his embrace. The black rat called Yves smiled in returned and nodded, "It's been a long time Emile, too long come to think of it." Yves saw me and bowed respectively low, "My sincere apologies Monsieur. Your father was a king, even among men." To say that I was intimidated by Yves would be a serious understatement; his size was immense even for a rat, his tail which was as thick as a ship's rope, was as long as he was tall. His teeth were sharp, reminding me of a vampire, which is exactly what my first impression was of him- a vampire.

"Thank you Monsieur" I answered, "Il sera regretté." Yves and Emile nodded in agreement, "Oui" Yves stated," sa mort a été un grand choc pour nous tous." It took me a bit to catch that; I will translate for your benefit. Yves said that my dad's death was a great shock to us all, I had no idea who he was referring to, but I had a feeling that I was soon going to find out.

Yves turned to Emile, "What are you doing down here, old friend?" he asked, his accent now showing clearly when he spoke. "I was just showing Remy the Rat City" Emile replied, taking this situation rather well. Yves stared at me as if I were the devil; I could tell that this was not going to be a good experience. "This way" Yves said gravely as he walked down the corridor and into a bright open space.

For a minute I thought we had gone down into the underworld and I was dead. Apparently I had covered my eyes for Emile lifted my hands above them and got right in my face, "It's alright" he said excitingly, "look where we are!" I looked around and sure enough, much to my dismay was the Rat City.


	7. The City of Rats

Chapter Seven

The City Of Rats

I know that's its called Rat City, but honestly The City of Rats sounded better, so I'm calling that from now on. Just to let you know. My first impression of the city was sad-and that's putting it lightly. To even call it a city is an insult to cities. It was more like a large gathering of separate communities with their own political leaders, governments, laws and customs and even people. The only reason it would called a city at all was because of the road and canal that connected them, making one big, messed up metropolis. In other words, this place is a shit hole.

But Emile didn't see any of that. Honestly he thought it was great. I have to give him credit though, he did lead me to the city that I thought didn't exist. I almost ashamed to admit this, but Emile also gave me a good place to start searching for my mystery girl. So I guess it wasn't so bad.

Yves smiled as he viewed the stinking and rotting canal that lined the city, "That" he said, "is real water." I laughed, "That's not water. That's shit" I replied, "Please tell me you don't drink that stuff" I continued turned towards Yves, who only nodded in reply, "Of course I do" he answered, "it's good. Besides, it keeps me fit." I made a mental note to myself that Yves might be insane; anyone who even dares drink that water, or even call it water has something wrong in their head. "Isn't this great?" Emile asked, "Look at that water..." Emile looked like he wanted to jump in and do one of those elaborate dance routines, Yves caught this and threw him in without question. There was one major problem with that-Emile can't swim.

"Great" I said turning towards Yves, "go save him." Emile was splashing around like an idiot, he hadn't even gotten the basic concept of floating, "Me?" Yves said looking around innocently, "he's your brother." I could see a slight smile, an extremely smug one, grow on his face, "You just have to make this difficult don't you?" I replied, gritting my teeth and twitching almost every limb in my body. Yves nodded, picked me up and threw me in the canal.

Just as I surfaced, for I had gone under for a few seconds, a boat sped past and almost hit Emile then another one came by and almost hit me. For a moment, I thought that's exactly what they were trying to do. I grabbed Emile as soon as I could, he was screaming the entire time, "Help, I can't swim! I'm dying!" I tried to reassure him, "You're dying" I then saw the boats turn back around and head straight for us, "Emile" I said, "What!" he yelled as he calmed down, "Count your blessings, pray to the Lord on High that this works." Emile's eye grew big at this, "What are you doing?" he asked. I couldn't answer for I was too busy trying to save us.

The boats would be crush us within seconds, I dove under and into the filth of the canal, trying to avoid the large amount of feces that was in front of me, not like it would've made a difference for I couldn't see a damn thing in that brown water. I surfaced again, but noticed that Emile was nowhere to be found, I cursed myself and Yves for throwing us in to begin with and dove back down to find Emile.

The water had gotten thicker at the bottom, making it harder to see than it was before. The only reason I found Emile at was by chance, otherwise I would've passed him as a human waste and continue. I grabbed Emile and started to go up, but something had him by the tail, I looked at his face, it was unresponsive, which meant that he was already dead or unconscious. Sparing no time, I followed his body downward towards the end of the tail and realized that a large rock was crushing it, it would be impossible to lift on my own, but I had to try. I got underneath Emile to try and push the rock off, but that would mean that he would his tail. I found a nearby stick and tried to use it as leverage but by the time I would've the rock off, Emile would've been dead and I would've drowned trying to save him. I took the option I could; I bit Emile's tail off and resurfaced.

A kindly fisherman in a small dingy let us aboard and brought us to shore. Emile was still unconscious. Setting him down on the sidewalk of the central district of the city, I felt and listened for a pulse, it was there, but it was faint. I then proceeded to give CPR. After several minutes, Emile coughed up a large amount of water and the garbage he had earlier. He blinked a few times, smiled and spoke, "Hey Remy" he said weakly, "what's up with you?" I returned his smile, just thankful that he was alive. "Let's get out of here." I said, "Whatever you say Remy" Emile replied," I've had enough adventure for one day." I laughed and nodded in response, "I've had enough adventure for the rest of my life Emile. Let's go home."

We went across the bridge and down the corridor that we first came in, Yves was nowhere to be found. On the wall of the canal, a large hole in the rock was easily noticeable. It wasn't there before, but I shrugged this off as mere shock and continued walking until I reached the surface and the night air of Paris, who greeted us warmly, as if we never left at all.


	8. New Additions

Chapter Eight

New Additions

"Ah ha!" Linguini cried as soon as I walked in the door of the restaurant, causing me to jump out of my skin. I figured he was sore about what I did the night before, but he seemed to have forgotten all about it. I walked into the kitchen and discovered what it was he was crying over; well crying would be the wrong word, more like celebrating.

Linguini basically had Colette in his arms, "This is...this is wonderful!" he stated as he set Colette down. Colette smiled meekly, "Yes" she said, less enthusiastic, "it is wonderful." I put on my toque blanche and remembered that I was still covered in shit. Shrugging I made my way over to the steamer and cleaned myself off to the best of my ability, which was just enough to get me clean of anything that the sewer covered me with and nothing else. So I still smelled like a sewer, which isn't the best thing when you're a cook in a five star restaurant.

Before I could ask on what was going on, Linguini began laughing, but I didn't a joke, so I was confused and momentarily my brain had shut off for so many things had happened within the past few hours that I was still trying to gather my thoughts. Linguini brought his face to Colette's stomach for some reason and began talking to it-_then _everything clicked.

"Question" I said, moving forward at the same time spraying a good amount of cologne and popping in a breath mint for good measure, "when did this happen?" Linguini turned towards me and smiled, picking me up in his hand and setting me on the counter he spoke, "Love can do crazy things Remy." I nodded my head in understand but I was still confused, my face began twitching slightly. I turned to Colette, who only laughed and lightly rubbed my cheek as a response, with her other hand she gently patted her stomach once again.

I stared at her and very slowly made my way over. Placing my ear on her stomach, I heard a slight kicking sound. "Hello?" I whispered, "I'm Remy." A small kick was the response I received, that was enough for me. I smiled and stared at Colette, "Boy or girl?" I asked. Colette returned my smile, along hers was warmer, "Girl" she answered. I nodded and turned towards Linguini, "If you please, will the leave the kitchen." Linguini raised his eyebrows in confusion but complied with my request and left.

As soon as Linguini left, I turned back to Colette, "Have you thought of a name yet?" Colette nodded, "Angela" she answered. I made a mental note and then walked over to the big cast iron pot, the only thing from Gusteau's that remained. I grabbed the wooden spoon and began making Ratatouille like I always did, I then made a baste which I gently doused the Ratatouille in, added tomatoes, diced onions and finally I put the dish in the oven and waited.

"What are you doing?" Colette asked, curious as to why I had done all of that only to put back in the oven, "You'll see" I answered. After ten minutes I pulled it out, the entire dish was a golden brown, but I wasn't done yet. I began poured spices, lemon juice and various other condiments. I then spun it around on its plate to make the tastes even out and finally three strawberries and a slice of cheese completed the creation. I then poured a small glass of raspberry tea and served it to Colette. "What is this?" she asked in almost complete amazement, I smiled, "The new addition to the menu-Angela's Magnifique Chambre Spéciale, in honor of your newest addition."

Colette stood up, took the plate with her and left. I ran up to the small window in the door and watched. Colette walked over to Linguini, who tried the dish. He then looked in my direction, completely perplexed. Colette then began to explain why I created it, to which Linguini stood up and slowly began to walk over to the kitchen.

I stood on the counter and waited for Linguini to speak. There was nothing but silence between us for several minutes. Finally he spoke, "You...Did that?" he said, I nodded my slowly, I was afraid that he was going to disapprove, the way he walked forward towards the kitchen- a blank expression on his face and the awkward silence we were experiencing now, only made it worse for me. "I'm sorry" I replied, hanging my head down and feeling ashamed to even look at him," I'd thought like it. I-I'll never make it again I promise!" I was sweating, my paws were wet with anxiety and I was close to throwing up, a gnawing and shameful feeling came on, creating a huge knot in my stomach, it felt as if I was never going to eat again.

Linguini smiled and patted my back, which made me feel a little better, but I couldn't deny that my anxiety only increased from there on. "No one's ever done that" Linguini said, "What, make you a meal?" I asked, rather naively. "No" Linguini replied and that was all he needed to say.


	9. Indescribable

Chapter Nine

Indescribable

After that the night continued as it always did. This was not about me; it was about Linguini and Colette spending as much time as possible. I didn't care that they were supposed to be working and instead were upstairs in the guest room; I could handle the restaurant business well enough on my own.

It was close to closing time. Everyone had pretty much gone home and the only people left were the old couple who took hours upon hours just talking about random nonsense. I gave their check hours ago, but they still sat at their table talking as if they had nothing better to do. I was just about to walk over and ask them to leave when I saw her again-the mystery girl.

If this isn't fate talking here, I don't know what is. Walking over I tried to think of things to say, I didn't want to have a repeat incident of last time-if I did I knew I would never see her again. She looked around the restaurant as if she didn't know what she was doing there, which provided me with an opening. I tapped her shoulder lightly, causing her to turn around; I bowed again, this time lower and began to speak, "Evening" I began, "would you a table or a booth Mademoiselle?" She stared at me as if she had no idea what I was talking about. I lifted my head and decided to keep the ball rolling by making idle small talk.

It was the most uncomfortable conversation I ever had, mostly because I was the only one doing the talking and it seemed to be going absolutely nowhere. "What's your favorite food in the world? Just name it and I'll make it happen." Nothing, I rolled my eyes and tried again, "What about music?" Still nothing, I was getting extremely agitated, but held my ground. She walked over to the nearest table and sat down, I took the cue and walked over, pulling out a menu as I did so, "Take all the time you need" I replied, "don't worry about money. It's on the house tonight." She smiled at me and said nothing more; I returned her smile and entered the kitchen.

I began frantic to search for recipes, anything. I pulled out Gusteau's cookbook and began reading. At that moment, who could show up but the ghost of Gusteau himself. "Remy" he said welcomingly, "how's my protégé eh?" I ignored him for now, I was too busy trying to find the one thing that I knew would work, "It's not here" I exclaimed as I closed the book sadly and put it back in its drawer. Gusteau looked at me with curiosity, "What is wrong my friend? You like you spat up by a cat, eaten by another and then spat right back out again before they each took turns humping your body." I stared blankly at Gusteau, extremely confused and disturbed as to why he even said such a thing, "What does even mean?" I asked, "Are you saying that I look like complete shit?" Gusteau nodded in agreement, I banged my head against the pot, "Next time, save me the nightmares and just say what you need to say okay?" Gusteau nodded, making a mental note and continued floating above my head annoyingly.

"Would you get out of here?" I cried, desperately wanting to be left alone to give me time to think. "I cannot" Gusteau replied, "You are in a crisis. It is my obligation to see you succeed in every possible way." Ever since Gusteau took it upon him to train me, having finally breaking free of my imagination and becoming a free spirit, things have been extremely interesting. For one thing, I don't see why I even liked the guy to begin with; he is the most unbearable human in all of human history and that's when he's not trying to give my advice. I don't even see how this guy managed a five star restaurant either, for he had absolutely no management skills, was terrible with people and was always ruining things for the sake of ruining them. In other words, Gusteau is a bigger hand full than Emile. As if my life couldn't get any worse.

I sighed, finally giving in. "What do you know about love Gusteau?" Gusteau nodded, "Ah. So you are in love, yes? Well my friend you've come to the wrong person. I was divorced three times before I died and all of them were entirely my fault to begin with. It's not easy being a cook." I gave him the death stare, "You're really trying to help me right now." I said, using extreme sarcasm, "Thank you for all that you've done, I really do appreciate it!" Gusteau unfortunately is very bad at catching sarcasm and so took it as a compliment.

Making my way back over to her table, I called over two orderlies and told them to get the finest wine we had. When they were gone I continued on my way. "Have you made a selection?" I asked as I took the menu and politely waited for her to respond. She stared at me and slightly nodded her head, "I'll have you" she answered. I had to blink a few times in order for that to make sense. "Excuse me?" I replied, "Did you just say-?" She nodded again, "Yes I did" she answered, "now sit down and shut up. We need to talk."

Very hesitantly I sat down almost directly across from her. This was where things got interesting. I started the conversation, "You know usually when I'm with a woman of fine tastes" I began, "I'd like to know their name." The wine had arrived at the table. She stared at me knowingly, "Well someone certainly knows how to make a statement. 1913? Good year." I shrugged my shoulders trying not to be not too embarrassed or show that I had anything to do with the wine, this obviously failed, so I went with it. "Yeah" I replied, "so" I poured her a glass and did the same to mine, "I'll tell you something about me, if you tell me your name." She shied away and smiled almost immediately, still playing hard to get. I rolled my eyes in obvious annoyance; this only made her smile bigger.

"Alright" I said, bringing my face closer, "you can't play hard to get forever. Eventually you're going to have to start telling me something, anything!" I stared directly into those indescribable eyes, "Please. If you don't, I'm going to lose my mind." My voice got softer and I leaned back into my chair, "I can't...I can't stop thinking about you. Every second since I saw you, the world is different. Do you know how antagonizing it is to find the one thing that makes everything worthwhile and you can't put a name to it? It's excruciatingly painful!" I got down on the floor, I was begging now but I didn't care, "Please tell me something!"

She smiled, stood up and headed for the door. I couldn't let her leave, not without getting a name. I rushed over and got in front of her, locking the door and throwing the key up a nearby balcony, effectively locking us and Linguini and Colette inside the restaurant. I breathed heavily and spoke, "Please" my desperation was at its peak, "after this, I promise, you'll never have to see me again." She turned around and sat down at the table, "You're persistent" she said, "I like that." Finally I was getting somewhere.

I sat back down and finished my drink. "I am getting hungry" she said as she leaned forward, easily within my personal space and conveniently kissing space. I began stammering and bumbling like an idiot for no apparent reason, "W-what would you like?" I asked nervously. She smiled and said the one thing that I was actually glad to hear, "Ratatouille". Honestly if she would've horse shit I would've made it, I don't how, but you better damn well believe that I would've made it possible.

I stood up and bowed respectively. Within the next five minutes I had returned with her order and a complimentary dessert, courtesy of Emile late one night an alley who suggested that I have at least some sweets on the menu. It was the best decision that I ever made. "There are you Mademoiselle" I declared politely, "one Ratatouille, especially made for your liking." The added flare at the end served absolutely no purpose, but it did get a smile out of her, which personally I could've looked at all night. But at the moment, I didn't want her smile, at least not as much of it, I wanted a name.

Not bothering to cook for myself, for I wasn't and completely ignoring the fact that I hadn't eaten in two days, I watched her eat the meal as if it were nothing. I was about to ask if she wanted more, but before I could she started to speak, "Okay" she said, "I'll tell you my name, if you tell me the real reason why you locked me in here." I stared at her in disbelief, for I thought I had perfectly explained that I was absolutely crazy for her, but apparently she didn't belief that. So I decided to come up with a less romantic and easier to believe answer, although the first one rang the truest in my heart. "I honestly just wanted to know your name. That and you're lost, I could tell by the way you came in, all anxious and nervous looking." I began to intimate a frightened and scared version of her, which got a good laugh, something that only made me press harder and harder for her name. "I figured you needed the company and good time. Who cares if I lock the door?"

The last part came out wrong. She stood up once again and headed towards the door, "I do" she answered, "I always prefer a way out in case I need to escape. I'm sure you understand." I sighed and pulled out my spare key, walking over to the door, I unlocked it and waited for her to leave. But she didn't even move towards the door. Then it began to rain

"Looks like I won't be going anywhere tonight" she said, rather amorously. I looked out the door and saw that it wasn't just rain; it was a downpour, so I was stuck in here with her. As far as I could tell, the rest of this night could go two ways. The first was very normal, we would chat for a few hours and then head into the separate bedrooms upstairs reserved for just such an occasion. The second was much more interesting and honestly was getting more and more appealing with each second I was standing in that room with her.

Eventually we stopped talking and went upstairs. I still hadn't gotten her name. When we reached the second floor I handed her the key to one of the rooms, "Keep it" I said, "you never know." She smiled, "Thanks" she replied. Then we both went into our separate rooms across from each other.

My room had a small fireplace; I stoked the fire and for the first time felt lonelier than I ever have in my entire life. I wanted to hold her in my arms, to tell her everything that I was feeling, to give her everything that I could give, but some things aren't that easy. It was still too early for any of that, honestly I don't even think she saw me in that way in the slightest, I couldn't blame her for that though, after all, why fall in love with the guy who locked you in a restaurant just to get her name? That's insane, that's crazy...

A sudden knock on my door, I opened it to find her standing at my doorway, crying her eyes out. I don't know how the sudden change in mood came about, but I knew that it was immediate and required my full attention. "What's wrong?" I asked. She only ran into my room and collapsed on the bed, " You should've have done that!" she cried. I shrugged, I had no idea what she was talking about, "You should've have done that!" she repeated, "What did I do?" I asked, moving closer, trying to console her. She pulled out the room key, "That" she continued, tears rolling down her face, "why did you give me this?" I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, for I wasn't sure how to respond. "I don't know" I answered finally, "You looked like you needed a place to stay, I had a spare room key, what's the problem?" Her crying continued, she didn't say anything, she didn't have to. I already knew her answer.

Here was a person who was afraid of commitment. Afraid of ever falling in love because she didn't want to get hurt, because she had been hurt before and the last time pushed her over the edge, making her lose faith in all the good in the world. She hid it well, but when she broke down, she tore all the barriers as well. I saw a lot that night; I saw the flirtatious side, the sarcastic side and the secretive side, but now I saw the normal side. She wasn't trying to be anything, not to impress, not to flatter. The best part was that was she wasn't doing it for me; she was doing it for herself. First impressions are important and that night was the night I will never forget, because that was the night that I no longer had an infatuation, it wasn't just a vague thing. It was something indescribable, even in two words. It was a feeling you get when you know that this is the person you're going to be with for the rest of your life, that this is the moment where starts to make sense. It isn't love, not yet, for I hadn't won her over, but on my part, it was pretty damn close.


	10. Heart Of Gold

**WARNING: Sexual content, drugs, psychological and physical torture. **

Chapter Ten

What's Love Got To Do With It?

I woke up that morning with her sleeping on my chest it was strange and somehow pleasuring. I imagined that she had willing walked into my room the night before, laid on the bed and then we- well, you get it. Nothing happened; I can assure you of that. That still doesn't change the fact that for a moment I thought that the world didn't matter, everything was a blur and if only for a moment I felt as if we were the only two people in the world.

Gently getting up I made my way to the small kitchen, it was January 3rd. Three days since Dad died. To be honest I'm still pretty messed about it. At night, I dream about him, what he would say about my situation, if he would be happy or disappointed. I secretly hoped that he would appear to me like Gusteau sometimes did, just to see him would be a blessing in itself.

She began to stir on the bed; I smiled as I watched her sleep from the kitchenette, making a meager omelet, for I was short on eggs. When she finally did wake up, the breakfast was prepared and laid out in front of her on a tray. She looked at me, obviously surprised and spoke, "You made this?" she asked, I nodded eagerly waiting for her to begin eating, "It's a specialty of mine" I answered. She laughed, "Really? What's it called something French that none of us can pronounce?" I sighed at her sarcasm, sincerely hoping that she would give me a simple straight answer, "No" I said as I hung my head sadly, "It's a ham and cheese omelet."

I walked over to the door, trying to hold back my silent tears. Was everything a joke with her? Apparently I couldn't be taken seriously, I could never sincere. There was always a catch with her and it cut me deep, clean through the heart. "I can be sincere you know" I whispered, looking back and noticing that she hadn't touched a single bit of food, come to think of it, she seemed to eat the Ratatouille so fast, as she were afraid that a fast acting poison was laced inside and the only way to keep it from working was to scarf it down in one gigantic bite. She didn't trust me at all.

"There's nothing wrong with the omelet. There's no poison, no drugs, nothing." I stated firmly as I put my hand on the door, "sorry if I can't make a regular omelet for you. I didn't realize that it had to be lethal in order for you to actually enjoy anything." I slammed the door and walked down the stairs, immediately regretting everything that I just said. I sighed and made my way back towards the door. Silence.

She opened the door, the plate was empty. She looked at me, her head hung down almost apologetically, "Come on" she said, "I know where we can go." That technically wasn't an apology, but I accepted it as one, because who knows where this might lead. Besides, she seemed to be sincere, so I took a chance. "Where are we going?" I asked as she closed the door behind her and we began walking down the stairs, "Oh, someplace special" she said, "I think you'll like it." I tried to imagine what place she could be taking me to, only one thought came into my head...The City of Rats.

The city seemed different in the morning, almost like a regular city, the people were normal and no one tried to kill you. Walking down the main road which connected everything I noticed that most of the houses were made of cardboard, tin and aluminum. She lead me down a back street that was surprising well lit, a yellow glow from a trash can fire made the place a bit homier, but we continued down the street.

On the right I could see several curtains behind them were beds, each of the curtains were separated by aluminum walls and a small trash can fire in the corner of every room could be seen. What is this place? It was then that I saw ten or more male rats and mice come out from the curtains, followed by ten or more female rats or mice. The women looked extremely sick, as if they were diseased, the men however looked satisfied. The horrors behind the curtains become clear, this was a brothel.

She stopped at a lone curtain and pulled it back. The room smelled of fruit, fresh fruit. She sat down on the bed and waved me over, I remained motionless. "Look" I began, "we don't have to do this." I was stalling for time; I knew that any second now she would pull me, either by force or by some kind of charm, I tried to hold my ground. "But isn't this what you wanted?" she asked, "to love me?" I sighed, in a way, what she was implying was exactly what I wanted, but not this way. Not here. I shook my head, "No" I answered. She smiled and stood up, "Then why did you say all those things last night? About how crazy you are for me, about how it's excruciatingly painful for you not to know my name." She was using my own words against me, out of sheer guilt and utter shame I made my way on the bed while she closed the curtain.

At first nothing happened. I began to look around for a way to escape, but I saw no such means. She began covering herself in a large amount of an overwhelming strong perfume. It seemed to cover the whole room and apparently the aroma reached the hallway and the other rooms for the other girls began cheering and clapping as she continued to spray. "What's going on?" I asked. She smiled, "You're my first costumer" she answered, "the perfume means after this I'm open for business. But this, this first one, is real."

Three things happened at the same time, first my father appeared, seconds later Gusteau followed. My dad looked at her and then looked at me, he seemed ashamed, he did it a second time and there was nothing but sympathy. Dad looked into my eyes and he could that none of this was my idea, he could tell that I had duped, tricked into believing that this relationship could actually work. Gusteau patted my back, wishing me luck, then both of them disappeared. It was then that I saw Yves directly above me, watching us, almost as if he were waiting for the inevitable to happen.

She pulled out a whip and tied my hands to the bed, I was now officially trapped and at her mercy. I breathed in slowly and told myself that this doesn't count, that what was about to happen was not in any way considered my first time. As I was telling myself this, I began to tremble, I was afraid that after she was done, she was going to kill me. I was afraid that Yves was going to drop a brick on my head and smash it open.

Just as she about to begin, Yves picked up a large brick and threw it at my head. Seconds until it would've smashed me open, she grabbed it and threw it back, knocking Yves off the balcony and sending him plunging two stories down and directly in the middle of the room. He stood up and turned towards her, he then looked at me, "You got one with a heart of gold" he said, "Those are always the ones who end stabbing you in the back. Remember that." Then Yves left, saying nothing and hanging his head down, I could've sworn that he was crying, but I couldn't be sure and I didn't time to worry for then the inevitable thing began.

She had me eat a small herb, I couldn't tell what it was, but it was enough to get me to only notice a key set of things. Then for no reason at all, I began to smile, my brain would've been normally on extreme danger and alert, was instead cloudy and mysterious. I tried to gather my senses in order to fight back against what was happening, for she had neglected to tie my feet to the bed, so there was still a chance for me to come out on top. I had no such luck.

The entire experience made me feel more than just violated; it had broken and permanently destroyed any feelings that I had for her. I think I know why she never gave me her name. It should be pretty obvious but I'll tell you anyway. She didn't tell me her name because she wanted the mystery effect, the sexual attraction that came with that and to prevent any sort of attachment or ways of tracking her down when this was over. I guess she also assumed that since I didn't know her name that this would be relatively painless for me, that I would be able to get over it quickly. A reversal of the normal movements began, I remained motionless, while she moved up and down, up and down against and inside my body. Silent tears went down my face, I began shaking more and more out of nervousness and the strange extremely guilty pleasure of what was happening.

I stayed that way for almost three hours. My head was spinning, I couldn't see anything and when she finally did get off me, I was breathing heavily, my heart was racing a million miles a minute and I terrified that another girl would come in and continue what she had started, for I knew that I was nowhere near getting out of there for she hadn't undone my bonds and only added on more perfume. I came to the conclusion that this wasn't a brothel, this was Hell.

She got back on and continued with me for twenty more torturous minutes, until finally she too was breathing heavily, her heart began racing and everything seemed a blur for her. Then the second worst thing that could happen, happened. She fell on the floor, dead from exhaustion. I tried to scream for help but the drug that she had slipped still ran strong through my veins, my head was cloudier than ever and in minutes I slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing I saw before the darkness hit, were those eyes, now cold and unfeeling, forever lost in a moment that was screamed of attention, love and eagerness that I could or would never be able to give.


	11. Said Too Much

Chapter Eleven

Said Too Much

"Remy!" a voice yelled as I slowly regain consciousness, "Remy...oh God, Yves get over here!" It was Emile. Yves rushed over and undid the bonds, "Come on" he said as he picked me up, "let's get you out of here." Emile and Yves each took an arm and dragged me out of the brothel, through the marketplace and into the lower district of the city.

Coming up to an old shack, they sat me down in small bed in one of the back rooms. I slowly began to regain my senses; I could make out Emile, "Emile?" I said, "What's going on, where I am?" Emile smiled gingerly, "Does it matter? You're safe now" he patted my arm, it was extremely tender from the whip, "What happened?" he asked, "Why were you there?" I shook my head as the pieces slowly came together, I should've walked away when I had the chance I should've left her alone in the room to begin with.

Yves stepped out from the shadows, "Did you love her?" he asked. I turned towards him, "You-you tried to kill me!" I cried, "You were the one who almost drowned Emile weren't you?" Yves became uneasy, "What are you talking about?" he said as he looked around aimlessly, obviously avoiding the question. I quickly turned towards Emile, "Remember when Yves threw you in?" He nodded, "Yves brought a rock down on your tail." Emile looked down and noticed that his tail was missing, "Well what do you know? Hey Yves look at that, no tail." I rolled my eyes, "Idiot! Yves tried to kill us!" I turned back on Yves, "Now you expect me to believe that you were trying to save me? In what sick, twisted world is dropping a brick on someone's head that could possibly kill _ever_ consider saving their lives?"

Emile laid me back down on the bed and put a warm rag to my head, "Remy" he said firmly, "you're acting delusional. Just try and rest, you've been through a lot." I nodded and tried to breathe normally, but Yves kept staring at me, almost menacingly. I didn't trust this guy one bit. But then I didn't care, for I realized something. She was dead and although she successfully took advantage of me, stepped on my heart, ate it and then raped me, I still couldn't believe that all of this happened within one day. I was in love and out of love in less than six hours, I was alone again and I began to feel as if I would always be alone. Yves continued to stare.

Emile sat on the bed and spoke, "Maybe you should just, I don't know..." Emile trailed off; he didn't want to finish his sentence. "Give up" Yves added, "Its dangerous Remy. This game of love, people can get hurt and not just the people involved but the people you care about." I started to protest, but instead a violent coughing fit came about, rendering me speechless. I lay back down on the bed and looked Yves, "What is your deal anyway? You try to kill me and then save me?"I asked. Yves sighed, "It's complicated Remy. I can't tell you everything but know that I'm on your side. Olivia, the girl you were with, was part of an organization." I blinked, in surprise of her name and the new information, "What organization?" I asked. Yves stopped and sighed, "I've already said too much" he replied, as he made his way towards the door, "Promise me one thing Remy. Never come back here."

I nodded in agreement and Yves left. Emile stayed with me in that shack until the next morning, January 4th, and we headed up to the surface. I promised myself that I would never go back to the City of Rats and to this day I never have.

Two Months Later

It's becoming more and more difficult with each passing day. My dreams are haunted by Olivia, those eyes, how normal she looked, and then the dark cold day of when my love for her died. The fact that I am now suffering from hallucinations isn't helping much either, but I still find reasons to get up in the morning. One of those reasons is Emile.

Emile is becoming more and more dependent on me. He decided to move in to my apartment so he could take care of me, but really it was the other way around. I couldn't have him in my life anymore, so after a month of him living with me, I kicked him out. I told him that he could come back when he learned to survive and do things on his own; I doubt that day will come.

Most days I spend at the restaurant, even after hours. Colette hasn't been to work in more than three weeks, same with Linguini. I understand that their expecting a kid any day now, but I need at least one of them, preferably Linguini, to show up. If this keeps up for much longer I'm going to fire both of them. I hate to do it, but eventually I won't have a choice, the restaurant is suffering enough as it is, I don't need any more problems.

As for my social and romantic life, it's nonexistent. I've given up hope of ever finding anyone; I have become extremely skeptical and distrustful of people, in short, my father.

Sitting in the restaurant I noticed how empty the place looked. There hadn't been much in the way of business and it was in the middle of spring, which is usually a busy time for me. Now everything was quiet. The silence was almost maddening.

Linguini sat at a table across from Colette, who was showing more and more signs of her intimate pregnancy. "Linguini" Colette said lovingly, "do you think you can have Remy make a-" Linguini jumped up before Colette finished her sentence and turned towards me, "Chef!" he yelled. Rolling my eyes, I walked over, "Yes" I stated sarcastically and with absolutely no enthusiasm, for they had been asking a lot of me lately, I barely slept anymore. "Be at her every beck and call!" Linguini demanded as he pointed at Colette, who only shrugged her shoulders slightly and smiled meekly with embarrassment as if to say, 'It's really no big deal'. I smiled warmly and pulled out a small yellow notebook, ready to take her order.

"Actually Monsieur" Colette began, "I'm not hungry." I put the notebook away quickly and stared her down, "Then why bother calling me?" I asked rather rudely, "I was busy going over the books. Now I have to start all over." Colette lifted her hand, stopping me, "I just wanted to talk" she said, her voice hurt but her face stern and serious. I was being an asshole and I knew it, but personally I didn't care. "In case you didn't know" I continued, keeping my off putting tone, "this place is going down. At this rate, we'll be out of business in less than a month." Colette raised her eyebrows, "What are you saying?" she asked. I sighed and got on the table, this was meant to be face to face. "I'm saying that I need my workers back" I answered, "I can't run this place on my own and you're the only ones left." I hesitated to finish, for I knew that this would be destroying my friendship with both of them, the only humans who ever cared for me, but it had to be done. "And I know that you're having a baby and you can't come into work, so- I'm firing the both of you." Linguini and Colette both had their mouths agape, the y couldn't believe that this was happening, "Y-y-you can't do that!" Linguini cried, "We have bills to pay!" I had had enough of Linguini's constant whining, "Why don't you grow a pair Linguini?" I snapped, "Because you must have lost your balls when you decided to knock up a whore like Colette." I immediately stopped, I should've stopped talking long before that, but I didn't, now I said too much and I couldn't take it back. So I made it worse, "Also are you even sure that the kid is yours Linguini? Think about it. What are the chances of you ever, ever in a million having sex? Better yet, what are the chances of Colette letting you have sex with her...None!"

Now I said too much. As soon as I calmed down I turned back towards Colette, trying to apologize. I was met with a justified and much deserved slap to the face. It was a hard slap to a human, but to me, it was like she was sending me to Kingdom Come on a speeding train with a Golden Ticket. That's how close she was to breaking my neck. The slap was hard enough to send up flying off the table and landing on the floor with a broken hand.

Colette stood up and Linguini led her towards the door. Before he left, Linguini turned around and yelled across the room, "You ever say that again I'll kill you" he screamed, "in fact, if I even see you, I'm coming over and beating the shit out of you!" Message received. Standing up, now officially alone in the restaurant, I walked back over to the table I was sitting at and continued punching the numbers.

I stayed up late in the night going over everything. The restaurant was so deep in the hole that even with a full kitchen staff, it would be impossible to recuperate any kind of profit. It was no longer about doing what I love, I wasn't a chef of talent and skill, I was a chef of business. Everything I did for the next three days was all in the name of keeping the restaurant. It was miserable. I had become Skinner, the one man out a dozen other humans, who had tried to kill me and came close to succeeded.

On the fourth day after I fired Linguini and Colette, the bank foreclosed the restaurant, in fact, the building was condemned for demolition within the week. I had only been a chef for nine months, not even a year, and it was already over. I had initially expected that I would at least get five years under my belt before anything like this happened, at which I would sell the building and start fresh. Now I had nothing. The only thing I had was my apartment, something that changed very quickly, for the bank also evicted me from the complex the very same morning they closed the restaurant.

My life was over. If I couldn't cook I saw no reason for living. Walking over to the nearest bridge, I was prepared to end it. I would give no explanation, the restaurant's foreclosure and eviction would be good enough. Just as I was about to jump, a voice stopped me, "Wait stop!" it was a voice I hadn't heard in a long time, turning around I was face to face with Anton Ego.

Anton walked over, breathing heavily, "What are you doing?" I rolled my eyes, "What does it look like I'm doing?" I answered. Anton was the only human that I trusted enough with my private life and my ability to speak that is until Linguini and Colette were added to the list. "Killing yourself isn't the answer" Anton continued, "There's too much that life has to offer Remy, too much, for you to do something as stupid as that!" I sighed, what was the point? "I lost the restaurant Anton" I began, "I can't cook. So why bother?" Anton laughed, "So that's a reason to kill yourself? What about your brother?" I rolled my eyes, everyone was always using Emile against me, as if he were the sole reason I did anything in my life. "We're not on speaking terms" I answered, "Well what about Linguini and Colette? Surely they will miss you." I laughed, remembering the conversation that morning, "No. At this point it'll be a blessing to them." Anton raised his eyebrows in confusion, "I might have told Linguini that he wasn't a man, Colette was a whore and possibly have hinted that their kid may not be Linguini's." Anton sighed, "Anything else?" he asked. I sighed deeply, "I also fired them."

At this Anton almost lost it, as if me firing Linguini and Colette had been the worst thing that I could've done. I insulted Linguini's manhood, insulted Colette and her unborn kid and me firing them was the worst thing to Anton Ego. "What!" he screamed, almost making my deaf in the right ear, "you fired them? Why did you do that?" I huffed, "The restaurant demanded it. I demanded it. Anton, I didn't do something we were sunk! I kept the restaurant going for two more days before it closed. That's two more days of business. Not much business mind you, but two more days of business, two days worth of more money than if I were to have kept Linguini and Colette and have the restaurant close that very day." Anton was close to slapping me in the face, which would've sent me into the river where I would've most certainly drowned or landed on a rock and snapped my neck in two.

"You're a fool Remy" Anton growled, "May God fine it in His heart to save your soul from damnation." Way to get all religious on me Anton. "I didn't have a choice Anton" I defended, "it was either them or the restaurant." Anton shook his head, "You would sell out your friends to keep your business?" Here we go, using food as a labor of love against me. "It's not that simple anymore" I continued, "I had to make sacrifices. I'll pay for them, with my life if necessary, but right now I'll just have to live with that." Anton nodded, obviously having nothing else to say. "Go ahead" he said, "Kill yourself. You'd be doing the world a favor!" I stopped, having to do a double take to catch what he was saying, "What are you saying?" I asked. "I'm saying" Anton answered back immediately, "that you're insufferable! You think that you're alone because no one likes you; you think that your business failed because it was destined to! Your business failed because you have poor management skills and fired your workers, workers who respected and thought the world of you. But you're alone because you're an asshole!"

When Anton was done ranting he walked away, not caring if I jumped or not, I looked down at the water and suddenly became sick, the notion of suicide having no left my mind. Having nowhere to go, I made my way to Norte Dame, the one place in Paris that I never managed to visit. All that day as I sat on the steps of the massive church, I kept thinking about everything that Anton said and I realized that he was right. But the thing was, I didn't care, I was deluded actually liking the rat I had become. It would take a miracle to bring me back to my senses and the thing about miracles is that most of them come unexpectedly, when we don't want them and when we are in most in need of one.


	12. The Miracle

Chapter Twelve

The Miracle

The water was cold, I couldn't see anything. All that surrounded me was darkness, darkness and silence. I tried to scream but each scream only sucked more water into my lungs. The water was cold, freezing my blood, making my fur stand on its end and my bone brittle. I was drowning. I was dying. The world that was once full of life was now full of loneliness and despair. The world I knew, the world of Linguini, of Colette, of Emile, had disappeared. All that remained was this void. I began crying, the sound of my wailing muted, the silence was maddening. Within seconds I would be dead. My body began to shut itself down. The only thing I could do was count, "1...2...3...4..."

The world had forgotten me. They had forgotten who I was, the great chef, the friend who was always there, the rat who only asked for nothing in return from life expect someone to love. The rat that did the smart thing by turning his friends away and focusing on business and money, instead of the right thing and suffer together with them, I had become a monster. I deserved whatever horrible fate awaited me. "5...6...7" The air slowly escaped from my lungs, which were now on fire and screaming for air. But I couldn't or wouldn't comply. In the darkness I could hear the voices of Linguini and Colette; they were laughing and drinking champagne. I cried, for the first time in a long while, I didn't cry for myself. I cried for them-for what I had done to them. They didn't deserve what they got. All Linguini and Colette were, were friends to me, and I pushed them away as if the past seven months had meant absolutely nothing.

The darkness closed in, I could my head getting heavier and heavier. More water entered my lungs, it tasted like tar, I knew then that if anyone deserved anything it was me. I didn't deserve happiness, love or wealth. "8...9..."I didn't deserve to have a brother like Emile, who had always looked out for me and had my best intentions in both his head and his heart. What I did deserve was to be alone, I deserved to be kicked down, spat on and called every horrible thing in every language imaginable. I deserved to die, "10". With this in mind, I gladly and patiently waited for death to take me.

But death did not come. The pain continued, my lungs were on the verge of exploding, my heart rate slowed to a crawl. My brain slipped in and out of consciousness as the water began filling its space with cold, black tar. All feeling had left me now. I couldn't think, couldn't hear. I hoped that I was dead, that way I wouldn't be trouble to anyone ever again, that life for my friends could continue and that they would be happy. But death did not come.

But what did was much worse. It came through the darkness, disguised as a beacon of light, when in reality it was a monster. The fire that came forth from its mouth consumed me, thawing out my body from the freezing water; my bones slowly began to move. I thought it was a blessing, for now I could see and hear again. But I wasn't even close. The fire got hotter and hotter; it burned my skin, made my eyes bleed and tore at my heart until it was screaming for an end. An end to its suffering, an end to the guilt it was feeling, to be rid of itself. I began to scream in pain, for now the fire had entered my soul as well. I could feel myself slipping away; my organs began to fail me. My heart and my brain finally gave up, submitting to the torture that they were enduring and failed. Still death did not come.

I lay on what appeared to be the ground, lifeless and yet still clinging to the last string of life that I had. Even with my brain dead and my heart destroyed, my soul continued to fight, begging me to go on. I wanted to listen, I really did, but I was frozen in place.

The fire suddenly went out, the darkness crept back in. I could hear the water rushing back to its place. Soon I would be swept back into the world of black tar and blindness. Just as the water came over me, filling my lungs with water once more and all the holes and empty space where the rest of my organs used to be, I let out a final scream, shouting to the world that I knew that I was here, that I was dying. I got no reply. The last thing I saw was Linguini, now shouldering his daughter as they played in the park. The last thing I heard was Olivia, her voice sweet and innocent, "The sun comes out eventually." After that I knew no more.

Sitting up from the bed breathing heavily, I looked around the apartment. Everything was exactly the same as I had left it. Nothing had changed. Looking out the window I saw Emile climbing out of the sewer and directly behind him...was me. I had to do a double take and then a triple take; I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I pulled out a pair of binoculars that I used for "bird watching" to get a closer look. When I surveyed the street I had lost sight of them entirely. Not only that but the street different. Now I saw Linguini, carrying a champagne glass and a bouquet of red flowers, I remembered that the last day Linguini came into the restaurant, the day I had fired him, he was holding the exact same champagne glass and the exact same bouquet of flowers. This was more than coincidence.

Rushing down to the restaurant, not really sure what was going on, I decided to observe. Peering in the window, I saw Linguini raise his hand, "Chef!" he cried. I saw myself walk over, "Yes" I answered in that annoyed tone, "Be at her every beck and call!" Linguini declared as he pointed to Colette, who gave the same shrug she had before.

I couldn't believe it. "What the hell is going on?" I asked to no one in particular, "What are you trying to tell me!" I screamed. Linguini, Colette and my other self stopped, "Did you hear something?" Linguini asked as he moved towards the door, "Yeah" the other me answered, "it sounded like-" Panicking, I ran into the alley, hoping that they wouldn't follow me, but knocking over a trash can in the process. The other me peered down the alley and saw nothing, "Guess it was nothing" he said as he turned back towards Linguini, "I'm firing you" he exclaimed. The rest of the conversation continued as before. Then Linguini and Colette walked away, while the other Remy disappeared into the restaurant.

Moving out from my cover, I began to breathe heavily. I didn't know what was happening; I thought it was a dream. I looked out in the street, it had changed again, this time it was night fall and raining, the night I met Olivia. I saw myself curl up in a ball and cry; I looked up and noticed that the rain didn't affect me and instead went straight through my body, as if I were a ghost. To my right, Olivia stood in the alleyway, her face unsure and her body shaking nervously. She looked broken, she looked desperate. "I can't do this" she said aloud to no one in particular, "what will he think of me?" I stared at her once more and noticed that there was another rat standing next to her, "Come on" the rat whispered, "It's not so bad. Good money, love, affection. What's not to like?" Olivia shook her head, "its wrong" she answered, "I won't do it." The other rat urged her on, "Come on. He's a cook, wealthy, has friends, and he looks pitiful! Seducing him should be easy."

I was confused, specifically remembering that on that particular night she showed very little interest in me romantically, if anything she was more curious than anything else. She was trying to seduce me? What the hell is going on? I watched as he cautiously made her way forward and continued watching as our conversation in the rain unfolded.

The universe was trying to tell me something I knew it. I just didn't know what. My guess, fate was leading me back to specific moments in time. Moments that I had to fix or stop somehow. I don't know anything about the powers that be, or what this has to do with my dream. But I do know this one inevitable truth: The only predictable life about life is its unpredictability, and my life had certainly taken a turn on the unpredictable side.


	13. Ghosts

Chapter Thirteen

Ghosts

As soon as I saw myself enter the apartment and Olivia walk down the street, for I had followed my former self home, Gusteau and my Dad appeared. "Remy!" Gusteau exclaimed, "What are you doing? You cannot mess with fate!" I rolled my eyes, I hadn't even done anything and he was already scolding me. Dad spoke next, which was just as much a surprise to me as it was to Gusteau, "Can't you leave the boy alone?" Dad said turning to Gusteau, "you already poisoned his head with your crazy cooking schemes and humanistic ideas, now look, thanks to you he's gotten himself involved with Olivia." I was confused for how did Dad know her name? Gusteau sighed, "Well at least I was there for him you inconsistent asshole!" Dad huffed, "I died thank you very much. It takes a while to manifest inside Remy's head and come out as a freaking ghost you pretentious prick!"

This was getting me nowhere, I had was about to have a panic attack, "Enough!" I shouted, causing both of them to stop their constant bickering, "Will one of you guys please tell me what the hell is going on!" Dad spoke up before Gusteau could, to assert his authority over me, "Sure. It's very simple." he paused for dramatic effect, same old Dad, "you're dead Remy." Wait what? I shook my head in disbelief, "Did you just say what I think you just said?" Dad nodded, "You're dead. Plain and simple, how do you think the rain isn't affecting you?" I looked up; I was even more confused than I was before, "No...I saw Emile and-and Yves. They saved me." Dad sighed, "No Remy. They didn't. Your mind created that reality to prevent you from going into shock before your heart gave out. Yves isn't even a real rat, but a manifestation of one, a demon in disguise." I began laughing, refusing to believe what Dad was telling me, "So if I'm dead" I began," Then how you do explain what is happening to me?" To this Dad gave a simple answer, "You're getting another chance son. If you can fix your life, not just the past seven months, but everything and I mean everything, you get to come back to life and join the living."

Well, thanks. That certainly explains a lot, Dad, thank you for clearing that up, I'll just go back to every single day of my life and basically relive it, until I get to return. Let's see, that'll take...about oh 4 years. "No" I said, "I don't have that kind of time Dad" Dad laughed, "Who cares Remy? You're dead! You have all the time in the world to make your life right." I slapped my face with my paw; he wasn't getting it and was almost as useless as Gusteau. "But I want to join the living as soon as possible. Surely there must be some things I can just skip over!" Dad nodded, "Nope. It's the rules." Gusteau sighed, "Oh shut up Django! You're just leading the boy on to make his life how you want it. You were going to let him relive his entire childhood, his teenage years to now in his early adulthood all over again! Let him skip at least the first half of his life."

Dad huffed, "Alright fine. Jesus, a guy can't have fun anymore." Dad then disappeared. Gusteau looked at me, "I can see why you didn't get along-he's an asshole." I sighed, "Well, he's not the greatest Dad in the world, not by any means. But he means well, just like any other parent." Gusteau nodded in agreement and was just about to disappear when I stopped him again, "Quick question. How will I know what to fix and what to leave alone?" Gusteau smiled, "Don't worry about. We'll be with you every step of the way." I nodded, "But ultimately it's my decision?" Gusteau nodded again, "Of course Remy. It's your life after all. All we can do is suggest, guide and consul." I ignored the fact that Gusteau had basically said the same thing in three different ways and let him leave. I then headed to back to the apartment to come to terms with the fact that I was for all extensive purposes-dead.


	14. Here's To The Past

Chapter Fourteen

Here's To The Past

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, for I realized quickly that the time jumps, when they did happen, were short lived, only lasting at most thirty minutes before I was thrown back into reality. Testing this theory took a lot of time, for I couldn't just will the jumps to happen, like fate, they had a mind of its own.

Even though I was dead, it was reassuring to know that people could see me, especially when it came to Emile. I couldn't bring myself to tell him what happened, for he had assumed, like everyone else that I was alive and well. The only thing that I was worried about is if someone touched me, for surely they would go right through me.

Emile though didn't seem to mind when he found out, which to be honest, disturbed me, it was almost as if he were expecting it to happen. We were standing out in the alleyway outside the restaurant, Emile, as usual was sitting on the garbage can, with a large cheese wrapper in his hand. "So that's it Emile" I concluded, Emile only nodded, as if he understood everything that I just said, "So let me get this straight, you're dead?" he asked. I nodded, "Yes Emile, I'm dead." Emile shrugged, "Okay. And you can see the ghosts of Dad and this Gusteau guy right?" I nodded again. Why was Emile being so accepting of this situation? "And the only way you can come back to life is if you fix it by going back in time through these random time jumps that you have no control over." I nodded again; this was getting annoying, "Okay" Emile continued, "Well, all I can say is good luck."

I stared at him for several seconds, completely stupefied; Emile definitely isn't the brightest light bulb, sharpest tool in the shed, whatever cliché euphemism for stupidity that you want to use, is Emile in a nutshell, see there you go another euphemism. I hate these things, personally if you have to say something just say it, don't use euphemisms, they're annoying and waste other people's time. Now I'm rambling. Great, see what you people make me do?

"Emile" I began, "what part of I'm dead do you not understand? Je suis mort, comme de ne jamais revenir, comment diable pouvez-vous accepter cela?" Emile looked at me as if I were a crazy person. I rolled my eyes; Emile never did bother to learn French, "I said, 'I am dead, as in never coming back. How the hell can you be so accepting of this?' Jesus Christ Emile! Learn French already. We're in Paris; it's kind of a law here." Emile laughed, "No it isn't Remy. Plenty of people live here who don't know a lick of French." I slapped my face with my paw, there have never been more times when I wanted to strangle the life out of Emile, "Do you have some kind of brain damage that I didn't know about? Or a learning disability? Cause you're about the stupidest person I've ever met and that's really saying something, cause have you seen Linguini? It's a miracle that he even remembers how to breathe!"

Emile was completely oblivious to my insults, to be fair I was once again, being a total asshole, and once again, I didn't care. I am not a people's rat; I am a rat's rat. Personally, I wouldn't blame you if you stopped reading right now. For only a crazy person, a devoted fan or a person who has nothing better to do than read this account of a rat, would ever continue reading.

If you made it this far, though I can only assume that you belong to one of those three categories, if you are part of the last one I feel sorry for you. Get off the computer, go outside and smell the roses every once in a while. Now back to the story.

The jump came without warning. Emile and the alleyway disappeared. I was standing in a field, surrounded by trees. It was fall; the leaves were golden brown, red and yellow. In the middle of the field was the entrance to a large burrow, walking inside I recognized that it was indeed the rat colony, the very first one to be exact.

The main room was huge; big enough to fit 150 bodies, along the walls were numerous hallways leading to various bedrooms, bathrooms and the like. Tables were scattered everywhere, I could only assume that it was dinner time, for the tables were arranged in such a way that the head table stood out more than usual. The room was full of rats, many of them were my uncles and aunts, but I never really did care for them much, mostly because they thought I was shit to begin with and would never amount to anything. I guess in a way they were right.

At the head table, Django sat in the center; next to him was Emile, who was smaller than usual, about 3 or 4 years of age. To Django's right sat a female rat, my best guess was that this was my mother, this was reassured by the fact that her stomach was extended, obviously in the late stages of pregnancy. Django turned to Mom, "How we doing?" he asked as he placed his ear on her stomach, Mom laughed, it was soft and sweet, probably one of the reasons why Django fell in love with her to begin with. "We're doing great" Mom replied, "should only be a few days more now." Django smiled warmly, it was the first time that I ever seen him really smile. He turned towards Emile, "Son, you're going to have a brother. How does that sound?" Emile only looked at Mom curiously and then back at Django; his eyes were shining with anticipation.

Dad appeared next to me, with Gusteau right behind him. "This is three days before you were supposed to be born Remy" Dad said, "Okay" I replied, "what happened to letting me skip the tedious stuff Dad?" Dad shook his head, "You can't skip everything Remy. Besides you always wanted to see your mother." I turned to Gusteau, "Alright. What do I have to fix?" Gusteau only gestured back to the head table; I turned around and continued watching.

Emile stood up and walked towards Mom, placing his ear on her stomach, listening for me. "How's it going?" he asked casually, "Oh that's good...hey listen, in a few days you're goanna come out and we're going to be best friends alright? We'll play all sorts of games; I'll teach you how to find the good stuff. But don't worry about that, you'll what it means when you get out, but I'll teach you anyway." Mom then began to breathe heavily, Emile could hear me kicking harder.

Dad looked at me, "Welcome to the world son." I moved in for a closer look, as I walked over, Mom began screaming, the contractions had begun, all it took was one push and I was out of the womb and into main room. Let me say right now that I was one ugly kid, for one thing I looked like the Alien from Alien- if you put me next to that thing we would be identical. My head was twice as big as the rest of my body; otherwise, I was a mushy pink blob of flabby skin. Dad shot me a look, "Hold out your hand and close your fist." I did so and everything froze.

"What's going on?" I asked, turning to Dad for answers. "When you're in the past, you can control time Remy. It'll allow you to change things." I looked around, everything seemed normal. "What's wrong?" I continued, "Look at you" Dad pointed to the small pink blob, "does that look normal to you?" I had to admit, when I said I was ugly before, I was low balling it, I was the rat version of Quasimodo. Gusteau rolled his eyes, "Are you serious? You're asking him to change his body? He's a baby for god's sake; it's not going to be pretty." Dad ignored Gusteau, "Remy, you were born this way. Physically deformed and barely alive, we had to take you to the best rat surgeons in the world. It cost us most of our savings but it was worth it, at least we thought so at the time." I blinked, I couldn't believe on what he was saying, "Are you saying that you changed your mind about saving my life?" Dad nodded reluctantly, "Yes Remy" he replied, "two years had passed. Your mother was sick, very sick, but we couldn't afford the medicine because you're medical bills were so high. You could barely walk; we had to take you to physical therapy sessions every day for a year Remy. But even at two years old, you were still a pink blob, most rats at that age have a full coat of grey, but you didn't reach that stage until you were almost four." I was confused, as was Gusteau, so I began pressing, "What are you getting at Dad?"

Dad sighed, it was difficult for him to say what he was about to say, but he said it anyway. "If we had that money, if we didn't spend it on you, then we could've saved your mother. That's why you have to change yourself...getting rid of the physical deformity, the growth problems, will save her." I went into deep thought, thinking of the consequences, the pros and cons, for I had learned enough about the space-time continuum that messing with it is very, very tricky. "What happens if I do it?" I asked, Dad shrugged, "I don't know" he answered, "We can't see the results Remy. Only advise you on what needs to be changed. That's how it works."

Seeing no other option, I reached down and touched my small pink flab of a body and began morphing it to the proper dimensions. Even so, I felt as if I hadn't done anything and so I thought that speaking what I wanted done would do the trick. "I remove your deformity" I exclaimed, and would you believe that it actually worked.

In an instant the jump happened again, this time I was standing in the roof of the old lady's house in the French countryside, you know the one. This was the second rat colony. I looked around and noticed that Dad and Gusteau had disappeared. In the corner of the room, once again at the head table, sat Django, Emile and my mother, this time I was in the picture. I apparently had just gotten my first coat; Emile was on his second and almost to his third and final coat. Django stared at me with keen interest, "Remy, what did I tell you? Sit up straight. Just because you're a rat doesn't mean that you have to act like one!" My mouth was agape; I never thought that I would ever hear those words from him of all people. To gather my thoughts I held out my palm and clenched my fist. I then began to pace around the room nervously.

"Okay, okay" I started, my breathing had slowed and I was started to panic, "this is perfectly normal Remy. It's just one of the results of the change. That's it, it has to be. No way would Dad actually care about-." The jump continued, forcing me to watch, apparently I could control so much. Mom patted my head and held me close for a quick embrace. "Listen to your father Remy" she whispered. For sake of convenience and to maintain my sanity, I will use real names. Remy nodded and turned towards Django, "Sorry Dad" he answered meekly. Django huffed, "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your mother and brother." Remy smiled at Mom and Emile and continued eating as if nothing happened.

Making my way forward I noticed that Emile was sitting on the far end of the table, away from Django, Mom and Remy, with the saddest expression on his face. "Can I...come over there now?" Emile asked nervously, Django shot a glaring look Emile's way, "No" he answered sharply, "Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean that you get everything that you want. You're a spoiled brat Emile." Emile then began crying, but Django stopped this as well, "And stop crying! That's all you ever do, cry, cry, and cry. What are you five? Deal with it!" Emile sighed, "But all I wanted was a little food" he whispered, for all of the food was at the other end of the table and it was considered improper for a rat to simply reach over and grab his share.

Gusteau appeared next to me, "So this is what happened?" I asked, completely heartbroken for Emile. Gusteau nodded, "Your mother favored you over Emile and Django did whatever you mom said, so when she started doting over you, he ignored and ultimately forget Emile." I shook my head in disbelief, "Is there a way to reverse it?" I asked hopefully, Gusteau sighed, "No Remy. You can only jump forward after you change something to see the result. After that, it's permanent." I huffed, "So you're telling me that Emile grows up without a family? What kind of existence is that?" Gusteau said nothing. Dad appeared slowly, obviously hesitant, "It's the kind of existence that gives you Mom, Remy." I spit in his face and slapped him, causing Dad to stumble to the ground. "You knew didn't you? You lied to me when you said you didn't know the consequences didn't you! How could you do that to your own son? What did Emile ever do to you? Nothing!" Dad laughed as he stood up, "This isn't about Emile, Remy. It's about you." I rolled my eyes, "Really? Is it really about me Dad? Or did you just tell me to make that change so you can have Mom back? It's not about me, it's not about Emile. It's about you. Just like everything else huh? Whatever happened to me changing my life so that I could get back to life? What happened to that?"

To this Dad had no answer and if he did it wasn't a very good one. He only hung his head in silence.

Then the jump ended, I found myself back in the alleyway, only this time I was alone. I looked around; Emile was nowhere to be found, "Emile?" I called out, "Emile? Where are you?" I walked up and down the alleyway; having no luck there I searched the restaurant, the apartment, and then went down every street that Emile knew about in Paris. Emile was gone, sitting down on the steps of a hotel; I began to cry, for I had lost my brother, the only person I had left in this world. There was never another time in my life where the only thing that I wanted to do be with Emile, in all the years that I had known him, he never stopped believing in me, even when he thought I was mentally insane for aspiring to become a chef, Emile was always there. Now I felt that it was my turn to be there for him and I had failed him, it was the worst thing that I could've done.

I no longer cared about my personal life. I was young, there was plenty of time for me to find love, the only thing that mattered was Emile.


	15. Crossroads

Chapter Fifteen

Crossroads

As if my day couldn't get any worse, it began to rain. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, especially since I was dead, but it's more or less the principle of the thing. I looked around and saw visions of Emile and then Olivia. Both of them were blurry and barely recognizable. My head felt heavy, as if it were made of bricks. Dad appeared in front of me, he was screaming something but I couldn't hear him, for all sound was drowned out by the ever increasing rainfall.

Dad whistled and in an instant Gusteau appeared right next to him. Dad turned to Gusteau, "See if you can get to him." Gusteau stared at me; I looked and felt as if I was going to throw up everything that I ever ate in my entire life. Gusteau leaned in and spoke to me like he always did, "Remy...how's my protégé eh?" The only response I gave was a blink. Gusteau looked up as if in deep thought, then he had an idea. With a single wave of his hand Gusteau made a plate of food appear in front of him. He waved the plate in front of me, letting my nose catch the various smells and my taste buds ache for wanting to taste the food.

Eventually without knowing it, I began to eat the food. Almost as soon as I did this did my vision return, but I could still see Emile and Olivia, "What's happening?" I asked, hoping that one of them would answer. Gusteau and Dad looked in the direction of Emile and Olivia and shrugged, for they didn't see anything. I stood up and walked towards Emile and Olivia, but it seemed as if I could only go towards one or the other. It took me a few seconds to realize that I had a choice.

Part of me wanted to choose Olivia, for I had never seen another girl like her before, and chances were I probably never would again. But the other part wanted to choose Emile, for he was my brother after all. It was an impossible decision, one that I made by choosing Olivia. I sold out my own brother, the one guy who ever cared for me and supported me throughout life, for a girl I barely even knew.

In less than three seconds after I made my decision I found myself in a sewer and directly across from the Rat City. Another vision appeared to me, also of Emile and Olivia. This time I went with my brother and I was next to Yves on the canal. Emile had been thrown in the water. Without a second thought I threw Yves in and waited for one of the boats to arrive. Grabbing a stick to use as a makeshift weapon, I jumped onto the first boat and began using everything that I had to beat the driver off. Once that was done, I made my way towards Emile, who was barely on the surface. As soon as I pulled him up however, Yves appeared behind me, having gotten around to the other side of the boat.

"Big mistake kid" Yves said as he attempted to grab me, for apparently I had become just real enough for him to somehow throw me off the boat, landing me once again, tied to the bed and back in the brothel.

Well shit. As if this day couldn't get any worse. Olivia had me tied to this bed, but this time I was ready, I began speaking the only language I knew well enough that would be able to do exactly what I needed, French. "Vous le savez, nous pourrions trouver un endroit plus calme, quelque part, plus sensuel, plus romantique si vous allez à ce genre de chose." Olivia looked at me as if I were completely insane, "What does that mean?" she asked. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, does anyone here speak French? I mean come on its Paris, someone has to. Sighing I gave the translation, "I said, 'You know, we could go someplace quieter, someplace more, sensual, more romantic if you will for this sort of thing." I began laughing trying to play it off and continued, "I mean after all tying me to a bed is a little extreme don't you think?"

Olivia nodded in agreement and amazingly released me from the bed. I noticed that the curtains were open, so I immediately closed them and turned back towards Olivia. "You're really upfront about this aren't you?" Olivia began as she poured on that ridiculous perfume, "No I believe you were" I answered, "now here's what we're going to do. Sit down." Olivia sat down on the bed and I sat down next to her, if this was going to work I needed her cooperation. "What are we doing?" she asked after several minutes of us doing nothing but sitting on the bed. I shrugged, "We're waiting" Olivia huffed, I knew exactly what she wanted, her body language told me everything, she wanted to get inside of me, be shown things and taken to places that she only dreamed of. Unfortunately I could only do so much, for I was dead and could not have given her such satisfaction even if I wanted, which in a way, I did.

Peeking out the hallway and seeing no one around, I took Olivia by the hand and dragged her to her feet, leading her back towards the dock. Then another vision hit me. This time it was between Emile and Linguini, I made the obvious choice and went for Emile; this took me to the alleyway behind the restaurant. Olivia, thankfully, was still behind me. I looked in the garbage cans, finding Emile scavenging for food. I touched his shoulder, causing Emile to turn around; it was then that I realized that Emile was completely feral. He was foaming at the mouth, his eyes were twitching and he kept hissing at me like a cat. "Emile" I began trying to reach for his hand, "it's time to go home okay?" Emile hissed at me and tried to swipe my hand away with his claw. Olivia slowly backed away, eventually leaving me alone with Emile. I promised myself that I would find her later, for I knew that she wouldn't go back to the brothel, she would stay as close to me as she could.

"Emile" I persisted, "come on buddy, it's time to go." Emile pushed me down and ran down the alleyway. Before I could stand up and run after him, I had another vision, this one of Linguini and Anton. I went with Linguini.

I was down by the river; it was the night that I first met Linguini. I was in the jar and Linguini had placed me next to him on the railing. After Linguini predictably knocked me in and pulled me back out of the water, he started to speak, "You can cook right?" I nodded yes, "And I can't right?" I found it rather sad that Linguini was looking to me to tell him of his own abilities, but I answered anyway, "Linguini" I replied, "You are the worst cook I've ever seen."

At this Linguini stared at me stupefied and opened the jar to let me out. "D-d-did you just-" he started to say but I cut him off, "Speak? Yes I did. I can also sing, dance and do a pretty theatrical rat version of Julius Caesar. Would you like to see it?" Linguini for some reason nodded a yes, "Sure" he answered. I smiled, "Come on Linguini, I'm a chef not an actor." Linguini gave me a confused look, "But you just said that-" I laughed again, "Really? Come on, do I look like an actor?"

Just as we were about to walk to Linguini's apartment, another vision came, this was starting to get annoying. This time the crossroads was between Skinner, Anton and Colette, a difficult choice for I didn't much care of any of them. Dad and Gusteau appeared once again, this time they could see everything. Dad and Gusteau only smiled and turned towards me, "Congratulations Remy" Gusteau spoke with excitement, "you have made it to the Crossroads." I shrugged, waiting for more information. Dad put his hand on my shoulder, "Having the visions means that you're back Remy, the system has changed." I nodded in partial understanding, "Okay what does that mean?" Dad continued for clarification, "It means that now you're going to have to work at it. The visions are going to make you choice between certain people in your life. Whichever one you go to, you have to change something, like you just did with Linguini." Gusteau nodded and picked up where Dad left off, hopefully he would make sense. "Fate has given you a second chance my friend. You still have a long way to go, a very long way to go actually. But even so, welcome back to the land of the living."

This was a lot to wrap my head around. First I was dead, then I was being transported back in time, I started having visions and fate decided that it was time to bring me back to life without any real explanation or reasoning other than it simply felt like it. There has to be a reason and damn it I'm goanna find out what it is, even if it kills me...again.


	16. Le Festin

Chapter Sixteen

Le Festin

Between them I chose Colette. Interestingly however, I wasn't taken back to the day I fired her, instead I was taken back to the night where everything changed. I looked around to see if there was another me in the picture, there was no sign of him, which meant that I was truly back.

Just as I was about to walk over to Linguini and Colette's table, who should walk in the door but Skinner. It seems that the past seven months did nothing to change his attitude towards me or the restaurant, for he was still wearing that brown trench coat, sunglasses and grey hat, making me think that was the one set of clothes that he had anymore. In any case, Skinner walked over to me.

"Rat" he said, his appearance causing Colette and Linguini to stand, ready to throw him out if necessary, Skinner looked towards them and then back at me, removing his glasses and his hat as he did so. Skinner kneeled down and looked me dead in the eyes, then he said the three words that I thought he would never say, "Please forgive me!" I could tell that Skinner was desperate, for he was shaking nervously and holding his hands out to me as if I were the Virgin Mary or something. "Why the sudden change of heart Skinner?" Linguini asked suspiciously. Skinner immediately stood up and turned towards Linguini, bowing his head as he did so, "Monsieur Linguini" he began, "I have seen. I have finally seen the light, that this rat, is the greatest chef in all of Paris." Colette raised her eyebrows, not believing a word of it, "What do you really want Monsieur. We're kinda in the middle of our romantic dinner."

Skinner immediately turned his eyes towards the table and saw the setup that I had made. He then nervously began apologizing and turned back to me, "Eh...Monsieur Rat" he stammered, "its Remy" I answered, "And before you say anything. You're hired." Skinner, Colette and Linguini were at a loss for words. "What?" Linguini and Colette both screamed. Skinner only danced around happily, "Are you serious?" Linguini continued, "This is the guy who tried to have you killed remember?" I nodded, for I remembered that day as if it were yesterday, in fact, it still gave me nightmares. "Hey, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones" I answered, "Besides it'll give you guys time to be together and the restaurant won't suffer with a shortage of workers."

There was no way that Linguini and Colette could argue with that logic. Skinner, apparently, had more good news, "Oh, oh. How many workers do you need Remy?" he asked giddily. I shrugged, "We need all the help we can  
get. We barely have a kitchen staff." Skinner smiled knowingly, "What do you say to hire a few more people?" I shrugged again, for what harm could five or six people really be? Skinner whistled, in an instant, all the old staff from Gusteau's restaurant came rushing in, they were all there- Horst, Lalo, Larousse, Mustafa and Pompidou.

Skinner turned towards all of them and clapped his hands, causing them to stand at full on attention. Skinner then gave a speech, "Welcome to your new restaurant, La Ratatouille." Skinner turned to me, extended his open hand, I took the cue and entered it. Skinner lifted me towards the new arrivals, "This is your chef, your sauveur. This is the greatest chef in all of France, in all the world. So show some respect!" All of them simultaneously saluted me, "Oui, Monsieur Skinner!" This was too much. I then addressed the group, in our native language, "Ayez l'esprit tranquille. Nous sommes tous amis ici, il n'ya aucune raison d'agir comme je suis le général d'une armée conquérante. Je suis un chef, rein de plus et rein de moins." All of them stared at me as if I was speaking Swahili or something, "You know what" I exclaimed dismissing my statement, "never mind."

As soon as I was finished, Skinner had them all head towards the kitchen, at the same time the dinner rush began. Skinner turned towards me and set me on the Linguini and Colette's table, "Rest Monsieur, we'll take care of it from here." I smiled and gave Skinner my thanks then he headed towards the kitchen to start taking orders.

Linguini and Colette sat back down at the table at the evening continued as before, minus Linguini getting cover in wine of course. It was then that I saw Olivia, the rain had already begun to pour, so she was soaking wet. But even so, to these eyes, she never looked more beautiful. Walking up, I decided that it would be better if I didn't speak; I simply led her to a table, got her a menu and walked away as quickly as I could. Anton came in shortly after this and sat at his usual table in the center of the room. I had a good idea on what he wanted and so ran to the kitchen to get his order.

Skinner was balancing seven different orders at once when I got there; even so he remained calm and collected. I knew that if anyone could run a hectic kitchen, it was Skinner. "Come on; come on stir like you mean it Lalo! What you think that just because you've been out of a job for a few months' means that you can slack off?" Lalo nodded nervously, Skinner turned around and saw me, "Taste check! Spoons down!" I yelled as I walked briskly past, checking each spoon and giving my citric, "More salt...less on the spice, more on sugar...prefect, mix it in with recipe 145 in Gusteau...complete shit, throw it out."

Instinctively, I went over to the sink and washed my hands, but Skinner turned off the faucet, "No!" he cried, "I told you Monsieur, we have everything under control. Now get back there and woo your mademoiselle with small talk, jokes or whatever it is that you can okay?" Skinner said this as if he knew my situation, looking into his eyes I could tell that he was being sincere, "How did you know?" I asked, Skinner gave a small smile and started laughing, "I am many things Monsieur, a cook, a homicidally insane man, an accordion player. My friends say that I'm the next Montand..." Skinner was now rambling; this continued for thirty more seconds, "Anyway the point is. I know when a man is in love. He gets that look in his eye, every time he sees the woman of his dreams. The look of 'I will do anything and everything to make her love me.' Then he begins walking as if he's on a cloud..."Skinner comically and much to mine and everyone else's amusement began acting out everything that he was describing, Skinner continued. "The man begins a slow waltz in his head to La Vie En Rose, he fantasies of doing things, things that are personal, things that only two people of opposite sex can do together. The lights in the room are dimmed; a single candle is lit on the nightstand." My eyes were starting to become dreamy, whatever Skinner was doing, if he was doing anything at all, it was working. "Ah see" Skinner exclaimed, "you are already thinking about it!" Horst came over and slapped me awake, for a moment I had forgotten completely where I was, then I saw Skinner.

Nevertheless, despite this episode Skinner continued with his dramatization, "You instantly begin to think of the future. You have a gut feeling that this is the woman that you were meant to be with. And that on this night, tonight, is the night that she becomes yours...that look, the look of desire and the walk of euphoria. You're practically drowning in it Monsieur. So go, go and win her over." I laughed humbly, "It won't be that easy Skinner. There are formalities after all." Skinner huffed, "You're the greatest chef in all of Paris! If you can think of recipes to turn Anton Ego, one of the harshest and most unlikable people in the entire world into one of the most loved and respected foodies in France than surely you can get a girl."

I smiled, thankful that Skinner was being so supportive, "Thanks Skinner" I replied as I turned towards the door, but somehow I felt as if just leaving it at that wasn't enough, "Seven months ago I would've called you bat shit crazy. What changed?" Skinner shrugged, "Let's say that Anton had something to do with it." My smile only increased as I exited the kitchen, leaving Skinner to do his work.

After checking up on Linguini and Colette, I made my way back over to Olivia's table, already noticing that she had been served by Mustafa. Sitting down across from her, I began to make ideal small talk. "So how's the food?" I asked, making a mental note to stick with what I know when talking to people. "Its okay" she answered, "could use a splash of Bourgogne Chardonnay, a bit more on the cheese, preferably Swiss or American and a pinch of salt. Otherwise it's sublime." I was completely dumbstruck. I motioned for a spoon, in order for me to taste the dish for myself, thankfully she complied. As soon as I tasted it, I was amazed for everything that she had said was lacking or simply not there at all. I immediately turned around and called for Mustafa, "Mustafa, urgence! Obtenez-moi tous les échantillons de vin nous avons de Bourgogne Chardonnay, une tranche de Swiss et American fromage et une pincée de sel sur le double! "Mustafa stared at me once again, like an idiot, rolling my eyes and frankly annoyed that no one in Paris could speak a word of French besides Skinner, I repeated myself. "Get me all the samples of Bourgogne Chardonnay, two slices of Swiss and American cheese and a pinch of salt." Mustafa nodded in compliance and hurried off to the kitchen, "And make it quick Mustafa!" I shouted.

"Sorry about that" I exclaimed as I nervously grabbed the tablecloth, "No one here speaks French, can you believe that? People live in Paris their whole lives and not a word of French?" Olivia laughed, and gave me the one thing that would've saved my life three days ago, "My name's Olivia." Thanks sweetheart, it means a lot. "I'm Remy" I answered, "So what do you do?" At this Olivia shied away, which means that most likely she was still a prostitute. It was at this moment that Gusteau and Dad appeared to save the day. "Nice going son" Dad exclaimed, "you're really winning her over. Now all you have to do is pass The Test and you're set." I shot him a look, Dad immediately jumped into his explanation, "The Test. It's a series of questions, likes and dislikes, hobbies, occupation. Things like that." Gusteau gently nudged my elbow, "Just be honest Remy. Do that and she'll open just like my cookbook- nice and easy to read."

Olivia cast her eyes down, it was then that Mustafa appeared with the new ingredients. In an effort to make her feel better, I effortlessly began mixing the wine, salt and cheese into her meal, while at the same time keeping my gaze solely on her, letting my hands be their own master. When I was done, I grabbed two wine glasses from Mustafa, who had them in his back pocket for some reason and poured two healthy glasses of wine, one for me and one for her. Mustafa smiled and walked away.

I gently pushed the plate of food towards her, "Try it now" I said softly. Olivia picked up a fork and stared at the plate, not bothering to look up at me. She dug the fork into the food almost mechanically and slowly and very painfully began to eat. I patiently waited for her to respond, but instead Olivia only looked up at me, set the fork down and walked out of the restaurant.

What did I do wrong? I began to go over the events of the evening; there was nothing that could've prompted her to do that. Unless...turning towards Anton, it hit me, for he had exactly the same reaction as Olivia when he tasted my food for the first time. Without even thinking, I ran out of the restaurant, following Olivia out into the rain.

She was standing on the curb, the very same curb where she found me. Olivia was obviously shaking, I could see it from the door, she looked sick, but wither it was from the rain or something else I couldn't be certain. I made my over, kneeling beside her and pulling her to her feet, "You alright?" I asked, "you never did finish?" Olivia laughed half heartedly, "I'm not hungry" she answered. I smiled, "Was that because you ate beforehand or the one bite you took made you unable to eat anything else again for the rest of your life? Cause I'll accept either one." Obviously I was joking and I was even more thankful that she caught that it was a joke, because she answered it, "I'd say the second one."

At this point, I couldn't tell who was more emotional, me or her. For both of us were shaking uncontrollably, I could hear crying in the distance, I looked around to see who was making it before I realized that it me. Turning to Olivia, I did the only thing I could do, I embraced her and told myself that I would never let go, not for anything, not even if you me to let go or you were going to burn down the restaurant.

This moment, was the one moment where everything seemed to come together. Unfortunately those moments are more often than not, ruined, because almost as soon as we broke the embrace, a feral and bloodthirsty Emile appeared from the alleyway.


	17. Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

Chapter Seventeen

Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

Emile walked towards us, his eyes had that dead stare, his mouth was foaming more than it should've been, his ears began twitching, and his small claws were covered in blood. Emile lunged for me, just as he was about to reach me, a shot rang out in the night, it was Anton holding a revolver. "Run Remy" he cried, "run and keeping running, I'll try and hold him off!" Anton aimed at Emile again, only to have Emile scratch his arm, making a deep cut and causing Anton to scream in pain.

I took Anton's advice and with Olivia in tow, ran down the street. Anton threw Emile in the street and aimed his gun once again towards Emile, but before he could get a shot off, Emile disappeared in the sewer system, only to reappear directly in front of me and Olivia. "Listen to me Emile" I said, trying to stall time, "you're not yourself. Just calm down and we can talk this out okay?" Emile only growled in response, no longer capable of human speech. "I think you're brother's completely insane" Olivia exclaimed, "Yeah, no shit sweetheart" I immediately answered, while also trying to find us a way out.

Emile, in a mad dash, went up for Olivia, instinctively I put myself in front of her, but before I could make on what would've been my heroic sacrifice, Emile was jerked back, by a massive hand, from below, Yves. Yves was covered in shit, literally he smelled like a sewer, which only makes sense because he's a sewer rat. Yves had Emile, who was trashing and still trying to get to me and Olivia, by the tail. "Well, well" Yves stated, "it seems we've finally come full circle." I was confused as to why or how Yves was even involved in this whole thing, for he seemed to have almost no connection to anything that had happened. Yves turned to Olivia, "I always knew that this would happen. You ended up with a good one Olivia. Let's hope he lives to through this night." Olivia moved from behind me, "Was it really worth it Yves? You tried to kill Emile and then Remy, for what?" Yves huffed, "You think I would let my sister get it on with random strangers? No. I had to make sure that you were going to be taken care of."

Yves looked at Emile, "This one is has a heart as big as his stomach" he continued, "But ultimately lacks...a brain. Not good for a husband." Yves threw Emile to the side and turned to me, "You on the other hand, have potential. You're smart, are financially secure, have a decent paying job and a good heart. Now there's only one thing that remains." I raised my eyebrows in curiosity for I had a feeling on what was coming next, "Let's see how you fair in the kill or be killed scenario!" Okay, now that I was not expecting. Fight sure, but kill, come on really, to that extreme? I'm not that kind of guy, I don't kill things, I make things, I'm a chef damn it.

Yves, without even giving me enough time to blink, grabbed my throat and slammed me into the ground. Emile, meanwhile, was standing, and still by all rights, completely insane. Barely able to breathe, I stood up, grabbed Olivia and once again ran for my life. Yves and Emile were right behind us.

We eventually found ourselves in front of the Eiffel Tower; Yves was closing in on our right, while Emile came in on the left. With nowhere else to go, I led Olivia to the elevator of the Tower. Seconds before the door closed, Yves reached in, forcing the door open, "Good" he exclaimed, "you can run, but I asked you to kill or be killed remember?" I shook my head, thankful that Yves stupid enough to actually stop and not kill me on the spot, "I won't kill you Yves. I'm a chef, I don't kill things, I make them." Yves nodded in apparent understanding, "Yes" he answered, "but what you fail to realize is that sometimes, killing is necessary in order to protect those you love." If it wasn't for Emile coming up behind Yves and jumping on his back, I could say that we would surely be dead.

Unfortunately, Emile jumping on Yves caused them to enter the elevator, at the same time causing the elevator to make its ascent to the top of the Tower. Emile began trashing and clawing at Yves, who only screamed in pain as his eyes were slowly and horrifically cut out by Emile. The only thing that I could do was shield Olivia from the carnage and hope against hope that we would make it out alive.

The elevator door opened, showing all of Paris in all of its shining glory. It would've been romantic, had it not been for Emile and Yves fighting each other for blood. Emile jumped off of Yves, causing the latter to stumble and go over the safety railing, only saved from a plunge to what would be his most certain death by his right hand, which latched on to the railing for dear life.

I tried to move for Yves, but Emile got to him first, by _jumping_ over the railing and digging his claws into Yves' back. Rushing over, Olivia and I tried to pull them up, but to no avail, for Yves' grip was slipping, which would've sent both of them to their deaths. I grabbed Yves' right hand and pulled with everything I had, but even as I was trying to save him, Yves still tried to attack me. Just as Yves was almost home free and safe on the balcony, with his free hand he swiped for me and then tried for Olivia. Emile, meanwhile, made a move for Yves' head, clawing and banging against his neck, Emile looked like something out of Watership Down, in fact, that's the best description that I can give of Emile during this whole chase, from his appearance in the alley, in the street and now at the Tower, a rat version of Watership Down.

Yves suddenly stopped, he looked at me, or at least tried to, his eyes were for the most part, completely destroyed and spoke, "Well done Remy" he said, "you'll do her good. I know it." Yves, using his last bit of strength, threw Emile off, and fell off the Tower to his death. Emile caught himself on the railing, but he was unable to pull himself up. Running over, I tried once more to get him to come to his senses while I held on to his hand, attempting to pull him up. "Emile" I said softly, silently crying to myself, "it's me Remy. Your brother...listen buddy, it's time to go home. We gotha go see Dad okay?" At the mentioning of Dad, Emile seemed to calm down, his eyes returned to normal and the foam receded. Smiling I continued, pressing harder to get Emile to come back to me, "Come on...let's go to the restaurant. I'll cook whatever you want. Anything on the menu, it's yours man...Hell; you're eating free for life. You'll never go hungry again, you can come back at the apartment and everything's going to be okay."

Emile, having heard this, completely regained control of his senses. Emile looked around, saw where he was and simply smiled, "Yes it will" he said knowingly," Do you know I know? Because you found her Remy...you finally found her, the one who will make everything better." Emile sighed and looked down, "I don't have that" he continued, "Never will have that" Emile coughed violently, he then began shaking, his feral state was slowly returning, "but that's okay...cause now" Emile began foaming at the mouth, his eyes became dead once more. Emile, fighting it off to the best of his ability, shook his head and gave the longest, deepest sigh that I had ever seen him give. With this sigh came the look of someone who knows that they're going to die, someone who is tired of fighting and simply wants everything to end. "Emile" I exclaimed, seeing this death stare, "don't please! I can get you some help. It's going to be okay." Emile looked up at me, his eyes for the last time being the warm and friendly eyes that I grew up with, the eyes that I had looked up to. Without another word, Emile smiled and released his grip of the railing, at the same time, my grip also failed, sending Emile falling to his death suffering the same fate as Yves.

For several minutes all I was able to do was cry. Olivia simply looked on and left, "I'm sorry Remy" she said, "but it's my time to go." I stood up, having calmed down, "Where are you going?" I asked desperately, wanting her to stay with me. "I'm going away" she answered, "and I'm never coming back." I shook my head, not wanting to believe what was happening, "What? Why, did I do something wrong?" Olivia nodded, "You killed Yves. He may have been crazy and overprotective, but he was my brother. I will never forgive you for this."

I couldn't believe that she blamed me for Yves' death. Even so, I did nothing to stop her, what could I do anyway? It's not like I could simply explain what had happened when she saw it with her own eyes. She would believe what she wanted to believe and that was that. There was no changing her mind, no stopping her. I watched as she entered the elevator and began the painfully slow descent down to the Tower and out into the streets of Paris, while I remained at the top, alone, at one of the most beautiful and romantic places in one of the most beautiful and romantic cities in the world.

This brings us to the beginning of this story...


End file.
